Contemplating One
by SeptinaStar
Summary: BtVS, AtS, LoTR. AU. Glory gets rid of the Scoobies before she knows who Dawn is. After all this time, this baby is finally done. Hurray! Not bad for a 10 chappie update.
1. Road Trip

_Author's Note: Uhm, I'm writing it as I go along. If it stinks to bad, I won't write anymore. But you have to tell me what you think about it. This is really AU LOTR, so it won't go along that much with book or movie. If Willow seems rather OOC, there is an actual reason for it-and part of it gets addressed in this chapter. It is kinda important to know that Tara does not exist-as a Scooby friend. Flames will hurt only my feelings and won't improve the quality of my writing, so avoid them and give me constructive criticism instead. That would be appreciated greatly._

_Disclaimer: I owe nothing, save some pieces of the plot._

_Rating: Right now, I'd say its G. But it may become PG later._

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The Prancing Pony came into view and the four soggy hobbits sighed in relief. Soon, their fear and anxiety would be over. Gandalf would be there, pipe in hand, and he would take care of everything. With deep, heartfelt sighs of relief, they sat down to enjoy their warmed drinks.

Half a universe away, a golden goddess spun out the threads of her web and cast her enemies asunder. Separated from each other with no clear way home, there would be none to oppose her search for the key she desired.

Frodo Baggins paled slightly upon seeing a familiar face. A face that wasn't the one they sought. "Sam, please tell me that I am wrong. Tell me that the hobbit over there is not my cousin."

Samwise Gamgee, also known as Sam, glanced over. "I wish I could, Master Frodo, but it appears that it is he. Perhaps you should hide?"

Willow felt it first. "Giles?" she screamed out her question and plea as the pull upon her body increased and she felt the fabric of reality being torn from her.

He reached out as though to pull her to him, but felt the pull on his own body taking him in the opposite direction. Dredging up all the reserves of his strength, he sought out the location they were being driven towards.

"Hide where?"

"Try under the table," Peregrin Took hiccupped. "It always worked with my mum."

With an almost desperate and delirious feeling of joy, he recognized where they were going. "Seek me at The Prancing Pony," he ordered. "I shall have another name but you will know me."

Before she could ask for more information, Willow felt herself falling into the cavernous darkness. Though she knew it would do no good, a screaming plea for assistance escaped her lips.

There was none to hear her plea as she fell, and the cry died upon her lips.

"May be I should just see him, find out why he is here. After all, it could be a rather harmless visit," he slowly announced. "I doubt his presence is related to my arrival."

Frodo made his way to his cousin but a customer, bearing a full tray of drinks turned into his path. Both stumbled and the hobbit fell back, the Ring slipping free from its hiding place. Though the man cursed, he moved on. Sitting unobtrusively in the dark, a cloaked man, leaned forward at the sight of the Ring. His gray eyes watched intently, waiting with held breath to see what would happen.

Neither male was prepared for the redhead who dropped into the building. The Ring collided with her and rolled underneath her body. "Giles?" she called out, turning over and onto her knees. Her hands scrabbled about, trying to find the stout rod that she always carried now.

Frodo rose and, picking up the Ring, offered her a hand up. "May I help you?"

Turning towards the voice, she extended her hand. "Thanks. I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"No," he replied. "I think you just startled everyone."

"Oh. Are they still watching us?" she whispered fearfully.

"Not any more. Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, watching the way she used the stick to slowly feel around before moving forward.

Shaking her head, she asked. "Where are we going?"

"To sit with my friends, it might be easier to find your friend from our table. What did you say his name was?"

"Giles," she gratefully accepted his help. Having taken a moment, she searched and found nothing particularly threatening about him. "I'd be ever so thankful for the help, Mr.?"

By now they had arrived at the table and he sent a warning glance to his friends. One that even the slightly tipsy Pippin recognized to say nothing about his true name. "Underhill," he quickly created the name. "I'm Frodo Underhill. These are my friends, Samwise Gamgee, Merriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took." He paused between each introduction so that they could shake hands.

Sam grasped her hand firmly, startled when she spoke softly, almost to herself. "A true guardian of the Earth. I sense her loving touch on you; see the green of life that responds to your generous and loving care. It is an honor to meet one such as you, Mr. Gamgee." Her final words were spoken in a louder voice for him to hear.

"Thank you," he replied uncertainly. This woman was different from any he'd met before. Nor did she match any description of the elves he'd heard Master Baggins speak of. Yet, there was a kinship about her that drew him.

Upon meeting Merry and Pippin, her lips curled up into a wistful smile. These were two who would be of much help to her. "Troublemakers. But noble of heart, with a nobility and spirit that will take you far given any chance. I am blessed to find myself in such company," she then introduced herself. "I'm Willow Rosenberg, humble scholar at your service."

"Who are you looking for? Our friend, Gandalf, might be able to help you," Pippin commented.

"Why not take a look around and see if anyone is familiar to you," Merry hastily interrupted, seeing Frodo's look.

"Easier said than done, Master Brandybuck. I'm blind," she bluntly told them.

Pippin voiced the question on all their minds, not ashamed to do so. "What does that mean?"

Taken aback by the question, she searched their manner and found only sincere confusion there. "When you close your eyes, what do you see?"

"Nothing."

"That's what blind is. Even though my eyes are open, it seems as if they are always closed. I walk in a world of darkness. That's why I carry this staff, it helps me stay on an even path and discover any obstacles that may block it."

"Oh. I thought you used it for magic," Pippin sounded disappointed.

She laughed. "I do practice some magic but I don't need this for help."

"How are you going to find him if you cannot see him?" Sam asked.

"I was hoping he'd be here and respond to his name, Master Gamgee," she replied with a deprecating shrug. "But I can tell that he's not here now that I've acclimated myself to this place. That is how I am able to move about, recognize familiar presences. You, Master Gamgee, I'll not soon forget for you radiate an aura of green and brown, while Master Underhill is more a soft blue and gold."

"What am I?"

"You are a sunny yellow, Master Took."

"Pippin. No one calls me Master Took, Mistress Rosenberg."

"If I'm to call you Pippin, then you must call me Willow." Turning towards the last hobbit, her head tilted curiously. "And you? Are you curious to find out how I see you, Master Brandybuck?"

"Merry," he replied. "Not really, but do they mean anything special, Willow?"

"Well, they can. Take you for example. You are red, which can represent passion, fire, and courage. Green and brown are earth colors. Blue means a dreamer and a hidden nature, while gold is a rare nobility. And yellow is a sunny, hopeful nature."

"Hah! She got you perfectly, Pip!" Merry crowed. "I am going for another round of drinks in celebration of our new friend. Do you want anything, Willow?"

"Not unless they offer water, I need to keep a clear head."

"Willow?" the question came before Merry left.

"Yes, Sam?"

He said nothing about the use of his name in a familiar manner. "What does your friend look like?"

"Excellent idea, Sam. Merry can look around for him."

"Thank you, sir."

"He's taller than I am and has blue eyes, lightly colored with green and covered by glass in a frame of metal. Short, brown hair that's going gray because of our behavior. I'd tell you that he has an accent but I seem to be the one with the accent around here," she laughed slightly. "I believe he's dressed in blue tweed. Or so Buffy, another friend, told me."

"All right. I will look for anyone matching that description," Merry trotted off and took note of everyone he passed.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate this," she murmured.

Frodo smiled. "I think we do. I do not mean to be rude, but I cannot contain my curiosity, what kind of name is Buffy?"

Willow shrugged. "Never thought to ask her mom. I think it's a family name, there are a few in mine that I prefer not to discuss."

The dark robed man made a decision. Rising to his feet, he slowly made his way over to them. As he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, he took in the taut form of the female. Before he could fully realize what that meant, he found himself locked at the throat with his own arm and a knife resting in his gut.

"Who are you?" she asked. Though the man seemed harmless, for a girl raised on the Hellmouth, he reeked of danger.

Stunned, he couldn't reply.

"Considering where my knife is, silence is not an option." To emphasize her point, she pressed it in, just enough to make him gasp in shock.

"Strider," he finally got out. "I am a ranger and a friend of Gandalf who is in position to help you. He asked me to wait for two acquaintances of his."

"Why should I believe you?"

Strider shrugged. "Because he said that I would meet an old friend of Giles-once called Ripper."

Willow let him go, still suspicious but more willing to listen. "And?"

"He said Giles wore strange wire frames on his face with glass in them. I was told that I would recognize him by that odd ornamentation," he cleared his throat, trying to regain her attention.

Green eyes blankly stared ahead. "Yes, yes. Go on, have a seat."

"They laughed but I got you some water," he looked around, taking in the strange man sitting beside Willow. "He does not look like your Giles. What did I miss?"

"Merry, Strider. Strider, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Master Underhill," she briskly introduced them. "No luck?"

Merry shook his head before remembering that she wouldn't be able to see it. _It was going to be tough dealing with this blindness_, he thought, _partly because she does not even acknowledge it_. "Sorry."

She sighed, sitting back down slowly. "Not your fault, Merry. It was a long shot anyway. You were saying?"

Strider blinked at her, puzzled as he watched Merry picked up the mug and put it in her hand. She nodded her thanks at him but kept her attention centered on him. "About?"

"Gandalf. Friends. Helping us out," she reminded him. "Trusting you. Any of this ringing any bells for you, Strider?"

He shot her an irritated look-which did nothing since her gaze was directed elsewhere. "I was also told that he has recently been spending time with a group of young adults, one whose designation was Flare. I can only assume they meant you."

"Take me to him. Gandalf is the one that I need to get back home," she half-rose, putting down the glass as she did. "Don't," she told him when his hand reached out for her arm.

"I'll take you but Master Underhill and his friends should accompany us. This is for you," he handed Frodo a note, which the hobbit reluctantly accepted.

"Sir?" Sam asked, glancing between him and the stranger dubiously. "Everything all right?"

Blue eyes glanced up from the letter and smiled at him, easing the concern, just a little bit. "Fine. It's from Uncle Bilbo, he knows Strider. We shall be glad for guidance to Rivendell."

The party of six left The Prancing Pony and headed out into the cold, wet night. "I have a place we can sleep in tonight," Strider said. "Journeying right now would be impractical and unwise."

Willow shivered, "very well."

In the morning, they made their way out of town and down the path until Strider decide that they'd better take their journey into the woods. Watching the redhead cautiously moving brought a question to his mind. "Is there something wrong with your eyes?

"Can't see," her sharp reply dared him to ask for more information. The staff felt stiff and unyielding in her hands and she calmed down. Giles had enchanted it to work based on her emotions-and it rarely lead her right when she was this tense.

"Willow?" a voice whispered from the undergrowth a few feet in front of them.

"Angel?" Disbelief colored her voice. "Where are you?"

"Over here," he stuck out a stick and tapped it against the ground. She came closer and knelt down, surprised when he hugged her tightly.

"You aren't Angelus, are you?"

"No. Why would you ask me that?" he asked, slightly hurt.

"You aren't acting like yourself," she replied. But she didn't move away from the embrace.

"I haven't seen anyone in weeks," he explained.

"How is that possible? I arrived last night and met up with them," she gestured vaguely behind her. "How have you survived?"

"On what animals I could find," he replied uneasily. There was a look in her eyes that he remembered from other times they'd been together. When she pulled free and removed her knife, he grabbed her arm. "Willow, don't be foolish."

Jerking free, she ignored him and sliced her arm. "Drink," she ordered. Not giving him a chance to refuse, she rested her open wound against his lips, knowing that his demon would accept what she freely offered.

The four hobbits and the human watched with a mixture of horror and interest as this exchange took place. It puzzled them as to what exactly was happening, the bushes and Willow's position blocked most of the events from their eyes, but they could hear certain things that roused their curiosity.

Once he'd had his fill, he pulled away and glared at her as she rested limply against him. "That was a stupid thing to do, Willow. I could've easily killed you."

"Oh, shut up and say thank you, you impossible cretin," she muttered at him crossly. Tapping into the earth, she felt for a spring and pulled the energy into herself. The open wound closed over and she sat up.

"Thank you," he repeated dutifully.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she pertly asked. Opening her hand, a familiar shape rested on her palm and she handed it to him. "Here. But if you dare go Angelus on me, I'll stake you."

Accepting the ring, he also accepted her admonition. Helping her rise, they made their way to the waiting group. Quickly she introduced them. "Vampire, with a soul. No danger," she explained in her introduction. At Angel's questioning look, she answered. "I figured we shouldn't be keeping secrets from each other. It'll be more dangerous in the long run. Besides, they are bound to notice your eating habits. Or lack thereof."

Strider had heard of such creatures but thought them mostly myth. "Are you sure?"

"I have known him and fought beside him for several years. Believe me, he's the least of our worries," she witheringly said.

"Spike's here?"

"Haven't seen him but it's all to likely. And stop it, Angel, he is on our side and unable to harm any living creature." She scowled and slapped his arm.

They traveled on in silence for a while, all the travelers caught up in their own thoughts. As night started to fall, they started to think about setting up camp somewhere. Angel paused and seemed to sniff the air, grasping Willow's arm and pulling her to a stop close to him. "Evil is coming towards us. I don't recognize it."

"Through fear of accessing your own abilities?"

He glowered at her darkly before answering. "No. It is unlike anything I've ever come across before. Definitely not Glory and nothing truly demonic. More like a half-breed."

"Zombie?"

"No. More like a ghost but more corporeal," he slowly replied.

Strider looked between the two, stupefied. "It this kind of thing commonplace for you?"

"Yes." "Definitely." Two voices answered in unison.

"Ring. Baggins." A sibilant voice hissed from the shadows. Three riders in black appeared before them in the clearing they had been walking towards.

The hobbits froze and drew into each other's warmth, trying to become as small as possible. Strider stood in front of them, finding that he was unable to move to attack or move them to a safer location. They Nazgul were not holding him in place. Rather, it was his indecision regarding the hobbits and his travel companions.

Willow sniffed dismissively. "Do we look like peddlers to you?"

"Baggins," they chorused in reply.

Feeling the four little ones draw closer to her and hearing a sword pull free from its sheath, Willow held up her hands. A bolt of witch fire form and she sensed the darkness before her. It lay heavily in the area, devouring the available room in its insatiable hunger. Idly moving it on her palms, she lavished attention on it until it was a potent force.

"BEGONE!" She let it loose and the horses shrieked as it roared their way, slamming into one of the riders and sending him flying off and into the woods.

The horses bolted and the riders hung on, not really shocked but in a state of shock. That _thing_ was no elf. Nor was it an Istari. But she carried with her a fierce power they could not understand. Their master would be displeased that they had yet to retrieve the Ring but would want to know of this invader's presence.

"Willow?" Angel asked, seeing her paling face. He could hear the rapid beating of her heart speed up instead of slowing down. "Ground yourself in the living. Don't follow the dead ones on their journey."

Sam instinctively clasped her hand, willing strength into her. The pressure within her eased and she smiled her thanks before they walked off in another direction, away from the clearing and the fleeing dark robed beings.

"Lovely performance, Willow, though your repartee could use some work." Giles' voice came from their right.

"Giles!" She broke free from the group and hugged him tightly, beginning to babble. "I was so worried and scared. And Angel's been here for weeks. And there's freaky things that I don't understand here. And my magics both painful and easy to use here. And the land is both harder and easier to navigate. And I met up with these nice people, except for the tall guy. He's got some secrets and there's some really horrible feelings to a lot of the people. And…"

"Whoa, Willow. Breathe, my girl. That's it. Take it easy," Giles soothed her, rubbing her back idly. "Angel."

"Giles." They clasped hands for a moment, before Angel asked him where he was.

"With Tom Bombadil," he replied. "You were scared? Imagine how I felt to see you go against three Nazgul."

"Naz-what?" she asked, pulling back from the hug finally.

"Nazgul, the Wraith Kings. Servants to the Dark Lord Sauron," he explained. "And you sent them fleeing like they were common delivery boys."

"Well, they were quite rude, talking about a ring and Baggins. Honestly, do we look like traveling salesmen?"

Giles took a quick look at the group, eyes settling on the man with the drawn sword. "He does-the one with the sword."

"Strider? He says he's a ranger," she shrugged. "Put that thing away, he's no enemy to us. Giles, this is Merry, Pippin, Sam, Strider, and Master Underhill."

"Frodo," he corrected.

"Frodo, then," she repeated. "Everyone, this is Rupert Giles."

"How do you do," he greeted them all.

"I'd be better if we were on our way," Strider snapped, replacing his sword. This whole situation was to full of mystery for his comfort. He almost preferred it when it was just the six of them. At least then he could control what was going on. "Unless you'd prefer to split up?"

"Lead on, Strider," she replied caustically. "Far be it for us to hold you back." They journeyed in silence for a time, slogging their way through the darkened forest and the enclosure of the brush. But they walked on into the night, uncomplaining. The fear of the Nazgul was still upon them.

They stopped early in the morning and looked out over the landscape. Behind them was the forest they had traveled in for days. Before them, a vast marshland awaited them. "You have got to be kidding me."

Strider said nothing to this comment, just lead the way into the foggy morning. In the evenings, after slogging through the cold and sticky mud, they would rest in front of a fire on relatively stable ground. Willow established a perimeter of safety and let Angel fed from her. Merry and Pippin were fascinated by the process and watched.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Pippin finally asked the question that had been in his mind since the beginning. They were resting just in sight of an old fortress. Strider had called a halt to their trek early because they were nearing the ford and would need all their strength to cross it.

"Not really," Willow replied, resting against Strider's legs. Currently, the ranger was combing his fingers through her hair, trying to help her relax and rest. It had not escaped his attention that she was always the first up and the last to go to sleep. The toll her magic was taking on her was showing in her pale face and nearly bony thin form, for eating had become painful to her.

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

She yawned, closing her eyes for a moment. "It's kind of hard to explain. Part of it is that I'm used to it and Angel's very gentle. The rest has to do with the…accident that robbed me of my sight, it damaged many of my pain sensors."

"What are those?"

"Pippin, hush." Merry scolded him. "Let Willow rest."

"But she doesn't mind answering my questions," he protested. "Do you?"

"Not at all," she yawned again, rubbing her eyes. "But, I will still be able to answer them later. For now, my dearest Pippin, allow me a moment to rest."

"Besides, it is your turn to make dinner," Sam reminded him.

Grumbling good naturedly, Pippin joined him by the fire. It was a restful evening until a howl pierced the night. The campers jumped in fright, "Oz," Giles greeted.

"And Spike," Angel's voice rumbled low in his throat. The blonde vampire entered the camp, followed by a wolf.

The wolf bounded over to Willow and curled up at her feet. Nudging her gently, he felt her hand brush gently against his fur and growled approvingly. From his position behind her, Strider tensed. She mumbled chidingly, "Oz. Come on, stop this silly game. You didn't go to Tibet to learn how to toy around and scare people. Transform into your human form."

He did so, with a sigh. "You sure know how to ruin my fun, Willow."

"What are you?" Strider asked, studying the young man.

"Werewolf," Oz replied. "Relax, I am no danger to you or anyone here. Unless, of course, you intend to hurt my pack or me, then I shall cheerfully kill you."

"Rest assured that I have no such intentions," he murmured.

"Then we shall have no problems," he replied. Nodding at everyone, he returned to his wolf form.

"Spike," Angel acknowledged. "How are you doing?"

"Doing fine," he replied, smirking. "I ate a nice demon before my arrival. How are you holding up, Peaches?"

"I am just fine," he ground out.

"Feeding off of Red? Doesn't that violate some code you, the mighty protector of the night, has?"

"I could easily feed off you," he pointed out.

"Hah! You and what army?"

"Spike, my boy, you and I both know who is the superior hunter here."

In reply, the British vampire bared his teeth in a feral smile. "Yeah, but he's asleep at Red's feet. And now that I've taken to fighting and eating our own kind-you know what they say about you being what you eat, pig boy-my skills have vastly improved."

"SILENCE!" Giles practically roared. In reality, his voice did not rise above a whisper, for all its power. "Take your silly and vain pandering elsewhere, can't you see Willow's sleeping? Poor girl does not need this kind of disrespect. Show her some consideration."

Angel turned away, ashamed. "I should stop."

Spike scoffed. "As if she would let you starve yourself."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

Spike grimaced. "I can't believe I'm going to say this but…as per your earlier suggestion, you may feed off of me. Until we find a more practical, workable solution."

Oz stiffened and a rumbling, warning growl erupted from his throat. The warning caused Strider to tense and look about, though his hand continued to soothe the girl before him. From the darkness, a woman emerged and studied the motley crew.

A striking beauty stood with her horse, poised underneath the dimly lit sky. She waited for a while before speaking. "The Nine are gathering together. They will pursue the Ring."

"That's the second time we've heard about this ring," Angel commented. "What is this all about?"

Silence greeted his question. Tension filled the air so thickly that they could feel it hanging over them.

"Why doesn't anyone answer?" a tired voice asked. Though soothed by Strider's administrations, Oz's tense body had awakened her. "We have been set upon by them once. Surely, if they are coming after us again, we deserve to know why."

Frodo cleared his throat, absolutely petrified by his own coming admission. "It's me."

Willow turned towards the voice, "Frodo?" she asked, voice infinitely gentle.

"My name is really Frodo Baggins. I have a Ring of power. Or so Gandalf tells me, that is why I am on this journey. We are taking it to Rivendell where it should be safe from its master. It is believed to be the One Ring. It belongs to Sauron, the Dark Lord. He wants it back-and it wants to go back to him. Years ago, so many that it has passed into legend, he made it and others. With his Nazgul, he planned to bind the other ring bearers to him and rule the world in darkness."

"How did he lose it?" Angel asked, interested. But he wasn't looking at the hobbit. His eyes watched Giles with hawkish intensity, the watcher knew this already. None of what they were hearing surprised the man.

This time, the answer came from Strider. "There was a great war. A man, Isildur, took his father's broken sword and was able to defeat Sauron. He separated him from the Ring and took it for his own. In time, it betrayed him to the darkness and was lost-until a creature we know as Gollum found it."

"Then how did it end up in _his_ possession?" Spike asked, also watching Giles. His eyes then went to where Willow rested. Exhaustion screamed off of every pore. If the watcher had arranged this, she'd be devastated. That betrayal was not something she needed in addition to all she'd already been through.

"My uncle found It in a cave and kept It for years, all unknowing of what It truly was. It came into my keeping when he left on his journey," Frodo quietly explained.

"So, what does it do?" Willow suddenly asked.

"All I've seen It do is grant the wearer invisibility," Frodo replied.

She snorted inelegantly. "That's it? Just does this?" With a wave of her hand, she vanished from sight. After a moment, she returned. "Any middling practitioner of magic can do that. It is an elementary spell."

The newcomer finally spoke again, her voice still in the night. "In the hands of Its master, It would wield far greater powers. It is the Ring that has sustained the life of the Nazgul. It brings longevity to all who possess It."

"These Nazgul. Who are they anyway?"

"They are servants of Sauron. Once, they were the kings of men. Now, they are wraiths. Not quite dead, but not quite alive," Arwen spoke in answer to Angel's question. The blonde and brunette males unnerved her somehow. There was something about them that spoke of unnatural life.

The redhead and the man with the odd wire glasses about his eyes spoke or terrible and wonderful power. Power that trod the thin line between elf and Istari magic. It was unnerving to her, as far as one could unnerve an elf.

What really bothered her was that Strider had barely acknowledged her. Glancing up at her only once, he had resumed his care for the redhead. Then she realized upon closer examination that the girl was absolutely worn out.

"Anyway we can lose them, pet?" Spike asked.

"The ford is just beyond those trees. It is difficult for them to cross over running water on foot. They would have to return to their master to get more suitable mounts for such an approach. Though it is shallow enough that they might make an attempt," she answered.

"Bridge?" Angel asked.

"None," Strider answered.

Oz transformed, quietly offering his opinion. "Why don't we split up and let Willow and the Lady before us take the little ones across while we distract them?"

"They would hear the song of the Ring," Strider told them. "It's how they've stayed on our path."

"Well, thanks for telling us," Angel sarcastically said.

"I didn't know if I could trust you," he defended himself.

"May I have It?" Willow asked, ignoring them.

Frodo hesitated for a moment, reluctantly handed it over. The golden band pulsed and they gasped, feeling its power-all except Willow and Arwen. Both females seemed to be curiously immune to Its powerful siren song. With a look of intense concentration on her face, Willow encased it in a hard shell of amber.

Though It strained against the enchantment, the Ring was powerless against this spell and decided to wait. Of all things It knew, waiting patiently was one of them and pondered the company It was now with. This new group was different. They were unlike anything in this world-especially the two males whose essence sung of death. And the young man who reeked of the untamed wild.

The redhead puzzled him, as did the mild man with ringed eyes. Both exuded a familiar essence it felt it should know.

"Brilliant, Willow," Giles murmured as she tiredly passed It back to Frodo-and promptly fell unconscious. Until he had seen Gandalf and been released from his binding oath to perform no magic, he could not offer her help. But the guilt ate at him whenever he chanced a look at her rapidly paling form.

Her reserves of strength were nearly depleted. He made the decision. "Oz's plan is the best one we have. How far to safety after we cross the Ford?"

"Not far. My Lord Elrond should be on his way even now," she replied.

Oz nodded to her. "I'm Oz. That's Giles and beside him are Spike and Angel. You obviously already know Strider, but the girl with him is Willow. I don't know who the rest of our company are."

"Exceeding your word limit, mate?"

He smiled thinly at Spike, fangs slightly bared. "No one else seemed inclined to make the introductions, so I deemed it necessary."

"Lady Arwen, forgive our lack of manners," Strider apologized, making everyone aware of her name before introducing the hobbits. "This is Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin." Once that was out of the way, they went back to planning their escape.

"The only thing that I would add is for Lady Arwen to take Frodo on her horse and get him in the clear," Giles suggested. "He is the one they are in pursuit of, the rest of us are incidental."

"Very well," she agreed.

TBC…may be.


	2. Rings? We have Two Willow Originals

_Special Thanks to:_

_Texaswookie: Angel will be explained. Xander makes an appearance in the next few parts. Buffy will be making her own arrival after that._

_Maleficus Lupinus: Thanks. :-)_

_Allen Pitt: Giles and Gandalf's connection will come to light in the next chapter or so. Kinda. Buffy's coming-sooner or later._

_Author's Note: The Nazgul Kings are more like the Dementors from the movie PoA because the LoTR movie ones did not match what I thought of them when I read them. They were not that impressive in my own opinion. I'm sorry, they just didn't strike fear in my heart like the Dementors did---and they weren't even on the screen! Just the feeling of coldness that pervaded the whole coming of them in their first scene. The way that the frost formed on the windows and the mist billowed towards them that preceded the appearance of the first one entering their car. And the sight of that hand. shudder. I'm still shuddering from seeing them on the commercials. Then, when I saw the movie, man was I cowering in my seat. I couldn't watch it._

_Anyway, the point of that note was that to visualize the Nazgul in my story, think of the Dementors of HP._

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Willow slowly returned to consciousness, wrapped securely in a blanket, not wanting to wake up. But she knew there was something she needed to do that day, something that involved magic. Body protesting all the way, she pushed aside the blanket and rose to her feet unsteadily.

"Here," a soft voice spoke from the right and handed her the staff she usually carried.

It felt unfamiliar in her grip and much heavier than she remembered it being from the night before. Then again, she had been pushing herself lately-and for good reason, she admitted. "Thank you," she murmured. "Strider? Would you mind telling me what happened last night?"

"You do not recall?" he asked, surprised. Then he felt ridiculous for his words, she had not been aware through much of the conversations that transpired the night before. Of course she wouldn't remember it.

"Vaguely, I know there was something about a gathering and the Ring. And something about crossing a Ford," she replied. "Strider, don't worry about it. I'm just having some trouble figuring out what was real and what was a dream."

"The Nine Nazgul are gathering to capture the Ring, the Ford is a body of water we have to cross to be safe from them. Crossing running water is difficult for them; they can only do so if there's a bridge or a ferry to carry them across. The plan that we decided upon is one of separation. Angel, Giles, Oz, and Spike will try to separate them so that we can take Merry, Pippin, and Sam across untroubled. Lady Arwen will take Frodo," he summarized.

"I see," she murmured. "My head hurts."

"Sorry to hear that," he paused. "Willow, would you be able to cover us with a veil of invisibility?"

Rubbing her head, she thought about his question. "It would be difficult. My magic here is stronger than I've ever felt it, making it much easier to use. But it erodes my strength. I can't promise anything more than that I will try."

"Thank you," he bowed and left her alone to take care of her morning ablutions.

With her staff steadily moving across the path, she was able to make her way to the enclosure and relieve herself with little trouble. Once finished, she made her way back to the main area of the camp.

"Luv?"

"Spike?" she asked, turning towards the sound of his voice. "How are you holding up?"

"I was fine until the sunrise, where I suddenly recalled my very severe "_sun allergy_"," he dryly commented. "Working on my tan wasn't part of the plot. But, hey, I'm easy."

"So I've heard," she quipped.

"Now, that was just uncalled for," he protested.

"But you walked right into it," she innocently replied.

"May be I did but you didn't have to follow me into the gutter," he gripped. "Now, luv, what can you do about me and the sun? I would like to be of some help to you in this absolutely insane plan of yours."

"Its not my plan," she reminded him.

"Yet, you say nothing about it being reasonable," he quipped.

"Give me a moment," she muttered.

"For which?"

"Spike," she chided. Eyes closed and her breathing carefully monitored, she opened up her senses to the world around her. Reaching out, her magic found a suitable item and transformed it, bringing it into the world, much as she had done for Angel. "Ouch, that hurts," came the softly spoken words as she handed the ring over to Spike, before stumbling backwards.

"Thanks," he grasped it and put it on his finger. "You all right there?'

"No," she plaintively said, leaning into his supporting arm.

Quickly, he guided her back to the camp. "Come on, let's get the others. I feel something coming on the wind." His explanation at her look was tersely spoken.

Together, they made their way silently into the stirring camp. Sam was preparing a small breakfast and glanced up once to nod his greeting. Recalling that Willow wouldn't see it, he said a quiet hello. Glancing over at Master Frodo, he was not that surprised to see his understanding look.

"This whole blindness is hard to manage, is it not, Sam?"

"It is, Master Frodo. I do not know how she handles it so well," he softly said.

"But she does not. Not really," Merry sat down, snagging an apple. "It just looks like she does."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I do not really know," he shrugged. "It is just a feeling I get when I watch her."

Frodo turned towards the redhead, then his head slowly nodded. "It is the way she focuses on everything and everyone but herself. I do not think her magic is supposed to cripple her like it does. Gandalf's does not."

"Yeah, but he is _Gandalf_, he is not supposed to have problems."

"Why?" Sam asked Merry. "What makes the difference?"

Merry shrugged. "Do not know. But there must be one since our friend Willow is hurting from them."

"When is breakfast?" Pippin asked, yawning.

"In a few minutes, you have enough time to pack your things," Sam replied.

His eyes fell. "Ah, cannot I do it after I eat?"

"No," Sam firmly replied. "The rest of us are ready to leave."

Grumbling a little, the young hobbit set off to pack.

Angel joined them, eyes carefully examining the redhead before he and Spike went off to talk. "I don't like that paleness."

"I don't like the fact that the watcher knows what's going on and doesn't feel the need to bleedin' tell us," Spike countered.

"Yes, that is also disturbing."

"Alert the media," Spike drawled. "The Great Poof actually agreed with something the lowly Spike said without any arm twisting."

"Watch it, boy, or I will show you some arm twisting," he began heatedly, only stopping because Oz joined them.

"Hey," he said.

"Is there something you wanted?" Spike asked.

"To warn you not to get into this rather unnecessary display of alpha male," he calmly replied.

"What do you think of this?" Angel asked, turning the conservation to more peaceable topics. Part of him was irritated by the werewolf's words. After all, vampires were the superior hunters and predators. The mutt should be less confident of his own place when he went against them.

But he knew that Oz was more than capable of enforcing his unspoken threat-and not just because he was a werewolf.

"Giles knows more than he's saying. Willow's being killed by the magic," he simply stated.

"But _why_?" Spike asked. "This magic is no different from what she uses on the Hellmouth."

"Spike has a point," Angel noted, glaring at the blonde before he could comment. "In fact, it isn't even as powerful as the magic she uses at home."

"Ah, but this source is not diluted."

"What?" This exclamation came from twin voices as both vampires stared at Oz.

"The fact that you didn't sense the change, doesn't surprise me. Spike's missing it, does."

"Why would he sense it and not me? I'm older," he objected.

"I'm just special," Spike smirked.

"Then why didn't you feel what Oz does?" he shot back.

"Angel, you have a soul and he doesn't," Oz explained. "I believe, though I may be wrong in this, but Spike not feeling what I feel may have to do with the fact that he's been altered by the Initiative."

"Another thing I have to thank those wankers for," he grumbled. "They take my bite and they take my natural abilities to sense the undercurrent of things. Just bloody _wonderful_ of them. Do remind me to send them a card, will you?"

"Spike, stop whining. Its unattractive."

"So is brooding, but you never hear me say anything about that," he retorted.

Oz shook his head despondently. When the two of them got together, they never really _listened_ to anything anyone had to say. With the exception of Cordelia, and even she had a hard time.

That wasn't often. But _everyone_ knew when the vampires chose to ignore her and they _all_ lived in absolute fear of those times.

Queen C was not one that took being disregarded with any amount of grace.

Willow approached Giles, speaking to him softly. "What's going on with me, Giles?"

"I don't know. For all my vast knowledge, I don't understand everything about you or your type of magic, Willow. I don't even know for sure what you are."

Puzzled, she stared at him for a moment. "I'm human."

"Not quite," he murmured.

"What?"

"Oh, there is a bit of the human in you. But there's something else, something stronger there," he said. "I just don't know what."

"This is _not_ helping me any, Giles."

His hand rested on her shoulder and he squeezed comfortingly. "I know and for that I truly do apologize. Nevertheless, you should be aware that I do not have all the answers to your enquiries. You have a kind of power that has not walked the Earth since Merlyn and his contemporaries."

"That's _so_ comforting," she sighed and rubbed her head. This headache was beginning to turn into a migraine and she worried how that would off-set things.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" he demanded, exasperated with her.

"I don't know," she leaned her head on his chest. "I just don't know."

Wrapping his arms around the girl he thought of as a daughter, he wished he could take the pain from her. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," she whispered. "I just hurt so much, Giles."

Helpless in the face of her vulnerability, he did the only thing he could do. The watcher rocked her and murmured soothing nonsense.

"Breakfast," Sam's voice called out and the group assembled. Pippin, as was his wont, kept up a soothing round of cheerful talk.

They appreciated his efforts but no one was fooled. The undercurrent of tension and fear kept them from truly enjoying the food or the chatter. Willow, Strider, and Arwen were particularly energized by it, feeling the burden of taking the four hobbits across the Ford when the Nazgul may not truly be misled by their deception.

Once breakfast was out of the way, Giles, Spike, Angel, and Oz departed.

"Lady, are you sure that this is what you wish to do?"

Her dark head shook. "No. Facing the Nazgul is not something we elves wish at all for we do not have the same kind of protection you mortals do."

"Protection?"

"Shades of gray," she quietly said. "There are differences in you humans that make you less susceptible to their darkness. We elves are pure light, there is nothing to stop the darkness from seeping into our bodies if we get too close."

"Then why do it?" he asked. "Why did you come?"

"Glorfindel has gone to see Lady Galadriel," she explained. "I was the only one available to warn you."

"Why did he go see the Lady?"

"Gandalf arrived and warned us of the arrival of you companions," she explained.

Strider was quiet. "Be careful, Lady Arwen."

"I will," she assured him. "I understand more of the risk than you do for I have seen this land in peace and I have stood witness as the darkness has grown and covered the eastern part of the world."

"Still, your father would never forgive any of us if something were to happen to you."

The elf stayed silent and went to her horse. "Are you ready, Master Baggins?"

Looking around at his friends, Frodo bid them farewell. "I will be seeing you later."

Lady Arwen and Frodo rode off in the opposite direction after a few moments. The elf wanted to give the outsiders enough time to get into position and lead away as many of the gathered Nazgul as possible. Facing the Nazgul, whether they were together or not, was not something she wished to do.

In her possession was Willow's staff. They would be taking the harder, less direct road in the hopes of avoiding detection. It was also hoped that by splitting up, they might not run into the Nazgul who chased after the four distracters.

Strider watched them go, concerned because she had refused the offered protection. Even if the offered protection may not be available, still he wished she had considered it. A small squeeze on his hand alerted him to Willow's presence beside him.

"They'll be fine. If anything tries to attack them, that horse will be strong enough to carry them to safety."

"I just worry," he shrugged. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. "We should go now, while we have this calm moment."

"Good idea. One can never tell what will happen once those boys of mine," she affectionately called them, "get going."

"One thing," he said.

"What's that?"

"How will you be able to follow my lead? You know, because of your blindness, you will not be able to see what I am doing." He ended, somewhat lamely in his opinion.

"Strider," she patiently said, "I can handle this. Don't worry about it."

"I have to, Willow. Your safety is one of my priorities," he protested.

"That's comforting to know, Strider, and I appreciate this. There are a few things I've learned that will help me to follow your lead," she said. "Certain tricks that Oz taught me about feeling the earth's vibrations and changes in the wind patterns. I'll be fine."

Though doubtful, the ranger allowed her words to soothe him. After all, she knew her condition the best and could judge what she was capable of.

He hoped.

"Let us be off," he took the lead and they fell into line behind him.

They moved silently, but swiftly through the undergrowth of the woods. Though difficult, the hobbits mirrored Strider's movements. Ducking when he ducked and hiding close against the trees when he indicated that they do so. Running when he did so and slinking low to the ground when necessary.

In this rather chaotically quiet manner, they made their way towards the sound of rushing water. Glancing around intently, Strider was relieved to see that none of the Nazgul was present, save one.

But the one who remained gave him cause to pause.

His presence filled the ranger with fear for it was the Wraith King himself that waited for them. "Willow, if ever there was time for invisibility, now would be it," he hissed after he slunk back to join her. "That would be the King of Angmar, the leader himself."

"I know, I know," she muttered back. Pushing back the pain, she concentrated and folded her hands before her lips. Blowing on them, she opened them and a wind encircled about the six of them. As it touched them, they shimmered for just a moment. Her head hit the tree trunk lightly, making no audible sound in the stillness. "It's done, only we can still see each other. Take them one by one across. I'll follow in a minute."

Sam's head shook. "I will stay with you."

"Sam," she started.

"Willow, you got lost the last time you tried to solo against the Nazgul. Angel and I helped you stay among the living. Let me help," he softly pleaded.

"Peace, Sam. You've made your point," she reluctantly agreed. "But at the first sign of things going wrong, you run for it, got it?"

Though he made a sound indicating his understanding, the hobbit knew he would not to let her face that creature on her own. For whatever reason, his connection with the land had helped her and made him feel responsible for her safety and well-being. He could not let her face the danger alone, anymore than he could let Master Frodo face it unaided.

Like ghosts, they crept towards the Ford and waited in the shadows of the trees. The ranger watched the Nazgul before taking Merry with him. As slowly as possible, they crossed the water. Strider noted with some concern that the water seemed to be rougher than usual, but put it down to his worries over the Wraith King.

Coming back, he whispered in her ear. "When we reach the middle to the Ford, I want you to start making your way to the shore. Trust Sam to lead you." When she nodded her understanding, he moved to where the hobbit waited and told Sam where to go.

Taking Pippin, they headed towards the shore and started across. At water's edge, they heard the sound of the horse getting louder. Turning, they saw the Nazgul King make his way towards their location. Pippin held his breath and quietly followed Strider as he started moving along the path in the water.

Watching the two intently, Sam grasped her hand gently when they had reached the middle of the Ford. Carefully, the two rose and crept towards the edge of the forest, waiting for their turn. When they heard the horse approach their hiding place, they froze. Holding their breaths, they waited for him to move on.

Now more than a third of the way across, Strider took a moment to glance back and saw, to his absolute horror that the King had stopped and waited in front of Willow and Sam's place. Cursing their luck, he quickly ushered Pippin the rest of the way to the dry shore where Merry waited.

Giving them a warning look, he turned around and looked about him. There had to be _something_ there that he could use to distract the wraith without giving them away. They were so close. They couldn't afford to stumble now.

The Wraith King waited, staring intently at the swirling water before him. The water chilled him. Something was not right here and it bothered him intensely that he could not figure out what it was. It tugged at his mind, this feeling that he should recognize its source.

While the others had been distracted, he had remained where he was, undistracted from their true goal. This was the only place for the ring bearer to flee for safety-and he would be here to catch him. While the others in that group were inconsequential, the Lord Sauron wanted them.

Thus, he waited alone for Baggins, while the others went to capture the infiltrators.

Willow and Sam pulled back into the shadows and made their way further upstream from where Strider waited with Merry and Pippin. They'd go halfway through the water; they would then make their way towards them.

They hoped.

As calmly as possible, they crept out towards the water's edge. With Sam in the lead, they made their way across the water. Halfway across, they started waking in a diagonal pattern whenever possible. Occasionally, Sam would glance back at the shore and tell her about the wraith waiting there.

Terrible as the Nazgul presence on the shore was, she was slightly more concerned with the fact that the water seemed to be steadily rising. "Sam," she began to warn him before her wasted body betrayed her. Slipping in the rushing waves, she sank beneath the water.

Concentration broken, their position was revealed.

Sam moved as fast as he could, desperately grasping hold of her head to try to pull her clear, so that she could breath. "**_Strider! Help_**!" he hollered, ignoring the wraith that had jerked to attention when they had appeared. It was too late to worry about him now.

At the shattering of the spell, the ranger had sent the hobbits up higher into the covering woods. Then, he scanned the water until he saw them. He was in the water before the cry had come. Approaching, he saw as she slipped free from the hobbit's hands.

Making a furious leap, he grabbed her, slamming his knee into the ground. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he struggled to pull her back up as debris started rushing their way in the rapidly swirling water. Sam helped him by trying to dislodge the rubbish that had gathered in her clothes.

On the shore, they heard the unmistakable sounds of the Nazgul regrouping. They looked between the horse bearing the Ring holder and the pair struggling with the downed girl their lord wished to see.

Lady Arwen burst through the forest and crossed the raging water. Seeing them, she wondered what she should do.

"Go on!" Strider yelled when it appeared that she might stop in an attempt to help them. In a frantic burst of strength, he heaved the girl free of the water and dragged her body to shore, aware that the others of their party had arrived.

Even as the four entered the clearing, the Nazgul entered the water. As though that was some signal it had been waiting for, a furious flood of water slammed down from the embankment and into the wraiths. Knocked free from their horses, the wraiths were swept away. The horses screamed in panic as the water overwhelmed them.

Green eyes flew open, "get their horses," she whispered.

Though confused by the request, he turned to Lady Arwen and spoke to her. Frodo climbed off the horse and joined his three friends, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around a shivering Sam. Nodding, the elf rode back across the waves and told Giles what to do. Together, the five gathered up the nine confused and frightened horses.

Down the path hidden within a copse of trees, Lord Elrond came with Gandalf and his two sons, Elladan and Elrohir. Gandalf's eyes went right to Giles, who was struggling to gain control of one of the black horses. Slowly becoming aware of the study, he turned and the watcher's eyes met those of the Istari. The four men mounted the horses, holding tightly onto the five riderless ones.

The elves looked about, confused at the disarray they found before them.

Elrond was especially concerned for the Ring was a powerful enemy, what if it had been lost in all this confusion. Shaking his head and deciding to worry about this later, he took stock of the situation.

Four hobbits clung to each other, while Strider appeared to be holding someone. No hope for an answer from him, then. Glancing over at the Ford, rife with angry water, he saw his daughter wrestling the dark horses of the Nazgul into submission with strangers.

A gasp caught his attention and he turned his gaze back to Strider. Now, he could clearly see the redhead being held in his arms. He stumbled back, startled.

Elrond found himself leaning against a tree, breathing heavily. The magic poured off the girl before him in painful waves. There was _something_ about her that was almost naturally, unnatural.

"Lord Elrond?" Strider hoarsely asked, indicating to the girl.

"I'll be right there," he replied, equally as hoarse. It hurt to be around her. Pushing aside his reaction to the sheer presence of the enchantment, he moved towards the girl whose lips had turned blue. Barking out orders, he started to undress her.

Faith landed with a slight bump and a rushed exhalation of breath.

Blinking her eyes for a moment, she looked around and narrowed her gaze on the sight of the strange man stripping Willow. "Back off," she snapped out, pushing him away from her. "Let Willow have some decency, will ya? Pervert."

Startled, he stared at the strangely dressed female. _The girl was positively indecent_, he thought. Still, it wasn't his place to judge her based on how loosely she was dressed. "I was trying to help her. She did have a nasty fall into frigid water."

"Nice sentiments but I can handle things from now on." She wrestled off the wet coat and wondered what to put her in once she had freed her from the clinging clothes. Sighing, she worked to free the buttons on the sopping shirt her friend wore. After the disaster with her killing the deputy mayor, she'd run away.

But Angel wouldn't let her just walk away, he had come after her. The souled vampire had done what no one else could and saved not only her mind, but also her soul. After the ascension, she had gone to LA to help Angel, keeping in touch with the gang. Many times she'd come back to help them out.

Of course, there was also the whole Oz thing.

Elrohir and Elladan returned with the wood and their father quietly told them to put it down and help the young man with the horses. Doing as they were told, they nodded a greeting at the hobbits and looked curiously at the two pale men who stood protectively behind them.

Glaring up at the man who'd come to hover over her anxiously, Faith snapped. "Do you have an extra shirt? And give me your coat." Accepting it from him, she turned back to the difficult task of ridding Willow of the soaking wet clothes.

"I will go and get that shirt," he murmured awkwardly, moving passed Sam who was working on getting a fire going.

"Honestly, what do you keep in here? Squirrels?" she whipped it out to clear off the dust.

"Not recently," he hedged, passing her a clean shirt.

"Squirrels belong _outdoors_, twit, not in a person's coat pockets." Wrapping the redhead in both, the slayer absently listened to the various conversations around her. Once the fire was going, she easily lifted her friend up and moved her towards the warmth the blaze gave off. Passing the vampires, she asked them idly. "Have you guys been behaving yourselves? Or do I have to reteach you some manners?"

"Well, we were-until we met each other," Angel replied, looking anywhere but at the dark haired slayer.

"Typical," she muttered.

"How's Red?"

"Blue," she snapped. Accepting a semi-dry cloth from the hastily introduced Sam, she vigorously rubbed the shaking form. Pulling the hair back and away, she exposed the bite marks. "Which one of you dust magnets did this?" her voice low with suppressed fury.

The dark eyes went even darker as they turned their full gaze on the vampires standing there, not saying a word.

Angel didn't even try to excuse his actions, just admitted to them. "She insisted with her resolve face," he said. "I've yet to see you stand against it."

"All right," she sighed, facing Spike. "And you? How are you?"

"I'm brilliant. I ate before arriving yesterday and demon blood'll keep me going for a while." The blonde vampire sounded almost godlike in his smugness.

"Take a page from Spike's book," Faith told the souled vampire. "It'll do you worlds of good."

"I'm not about to turn cannibal!" he protested.

"Of course you won't. You'll just continue to feed off Red for no other reason then squeamishness," Spike retorted bitingly. "Eating demons is better-especially since you fight against them anyway."

Elrond shook his head upon hearing this conversation. _Demons? Blood? What where these two male creatures that appeared to be human? Why did they speak so to each other? And why did they fear the dark haired female so? Was she like them and not a human_?

This was more than he bargained for when Gandalf had informed him of the changes occurring in Middle Earth due to their unexpected and unprecedented arrival. Whatever they were, though, he had agreed to open his hearth and home to them. Though he did not feel entirely comfortable with them, he would not renege.

Strange though they were, they deserved the full hospitality his home had to offer.

Clearing his throat to gain their attention, he ordered everyone but Faith, Sam, and his sons to leave for Rivendell. The young man with the horses looked at him doubtfully but left the beasts in their care.

The elf king was doubtful of the beasts himself. Yet, they horses didn't look quite so demonic. Nevertheless, he didn't trust them in his land yet. Therefore, he would need the help of his sons to care for them.

The elves watched the animals curiously. The dark black seemed to fade after a time and become a softer shade of mahogany brown. Deep, hate filled eyes softened to the gentle gaze they were more accustomed to seeing in such creatures. When morning broke, they allowed the twins to lead them down the path to Rivendell.

Though deeply concerned by her lack of consciousness, Elrond decided that it was best to move her away from the open forest. Though the Nazgul were gone, there were still goblins and orcs to contend with. They were no longer to troubled by the sunlight and often ventured out into the day. Some even risking their lives to approach Rivendell's boundaries.

Following behind his sons, he carried Willow. Though still troubled by Faith's general self, Willow's strong magical essence still held him in its thrall and he did not fully recognize the fact that Faith also has otherworldly abilities.

And the slayer's own concern for her friend prevented her from doing more than a cursory test of the company she found herself in. And she had only done that when she was assured of Willow's well being. Well, that and she was no fool. What she had found about them, though, troubled her for she didn't recognize them.

Not that they were evil or untrustworthy, just they were _different_ from anything she could understand.

_The important thing_, she finally decided, _was that they weren't demonic_. That alone was enough to allow her to be silent when Elrond carried Willow into the unknown.

Arriving in Rivendell, they were surprised by the odd assortment of beings that had gathered in the courtyard of Elrond's kingdom. She took a step back, trying to examine each of the beings in their turn.

Plus, the full force of the elves enchantments hit her head on, suffocating her.

Willow flinched back from it and whimpered.

One of the men turned at the sound and gasped in absolute astonishment.

"Willow," the man breathed out and approached them. His face was pale with shock under his tan. Taking her from Elrond, he held her close. "What happened?"

Before Elrond could answer, another voice called out to him. With a sigh, he turned to go inside to find suitable quarters for their new guests. When their father left, the twins took the horses to the stables, figuring it was safe to do so.

"Boromir? You? Here?" Faith exclaimed, delighted to see him. Shaking off the weird vibes, she walked over to him. Giving him a wicked grin, she warned him, somewhat seriously. "Buffy's so going to kill you."

"Really?" he gulped, looking around somewhat anxiously. Having fallen into their world a while back, he knew from personal experience what the slayers were capable of. He had had more than a few workouts with them. Adopted by them-or may be it was the other way around-he'd become an older brother to Dawn, Buffy, and Faith.

"Yes, sir. You are so no longer five by five," she chuckled.

"I agree. She will definitely slaughter you."


	3. We're Here, Now what?

_Author's Note: 654321 shows any major changes in p.o.v. And you will note that I am in favor of non-canon couples. For example, Faith and Oz or Eowyn and Boromir. So, don't be too surprised by any pairings that spring up between the BtVS/AtS groups._

654321

"Angel," he nodded at the vampire who'd come up behind Faith. "You realize that that statement is not very comforting."

"Boromir," he returned the greeting. "And it may not be to your liking, but it is quite true."

"But why? What did I do?" he asked.

"It's more like what you didn't do, mate, that's got her hunting your blood."

Willow's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Spike's voice. "Boro?" she sleepily inquired, recognizing his face. "Whatyaherefor?" she slurred the words.

"Hey, little one," he softly greeted. "And I live here, remember?"

"Tay," she nodded somewhat drunkenly, quite proud of her coherency. Snuggling further into his warmth, she yawned widely. "Buffy's gonna kill you. Like major kill you. Making you the dead thing, you know, dead? Good thing you've kept fit 'cause she's no slacker herself."

The Gondorian's nerve was wracked by this calm pronouncement of his fate-and description. All this composed talk about his impending doom bothered him. And the laughter of his men wasn't helping. He could excuse them for it though because they had no knowledge of the slayer.

Female warriors they knew of. Living next door to Rohan had opened their minds to the fact that women can be trained to defend. Though as men of Gondor, they felt more comfortable with their women out of battle and kept safe.

But knowing of someone like the slayer? No, they had no conception of such mystic warriors. Living where they did, they had no need of a slayer who was chosen to fight against the supernatural forces of evil.

Still…"would you stop saying that?"

Faith grinned. "Sure. Guess you don't appreciate friendly warnings anymore."

"Friendly, yes. Unnervingly truthful, no." Boromir corrected with a smile, even as the heckling of his men increased. Still, there was no reason for their behavior even if they'd never experienced what he had.

No, that wasn't quite true. Some of the blame rested upon him. If he had only mentioned that the world he had visited had great female warriors, he would not be going through this now. Of course, doing so would have implied that he had said something to his men.

Which he had not, only his brother knew the truth.

"What? You think Willow's lovely tale of what will become of you due to your jilting of our dear slayer's feelings was unnerving?" Spike drawlingly asked. "I found it quite refreshing and amusing."

"Of course, you did," he dryly replied. "Still, talking of one's imminent demise is rather uncomfortable."

"If you say so," her irritated voice replied.

For a moment, he thought it was something he had done. Or not done, for that matter, one could never tell with her. But, as he followed her line of sight, he saw that her gaze was focused off to the side where the Elves of Mirkwood and the dwarves were arguing.

Willow's renewed shaking brought his attention to her and he ignored all else as he wrapped her in his cloak. Pulling her closer, he wondered if there was something more he could do.

A hobbit approached him, somewhat timidly. "I'm Samwise Gamgee," he softly introduced himself. "I take it that they have been here before, though none of them seem to remember the occasion."

"Boromir," he returned the introduction with a slight bow. "And, no, they have never been here. I went to their world a few months back. What has happened to bring them here?"

"Now, that is a question we do not have an answer for. But Willow appeared before our eyes at _The Prancing Pony_. Later on we were joined by the others."

"Others?" he raised an eyebrow in query.

"Masters Angel, Giles, Spike, Oz, and the Mistress Faith. She is rather scary," he finished.

"Faith can be that way on the first meeting but she is a great person," he agreed.

"I do not that think I want to get to know her," Sam avowed.

"Not up to trying new experiences?"

"I think I have had enough new experiences to last me for my life time."

"That is your choice. Why is she like this?" he asked, relieved that the hobbit was answering his questions.

"She passed out in a river while we were fleeing from the Nazgul," Sam told him.

"Probably overextended her reach," he guessed. Sighing affectionately, he shook his brown head. "Little Willow has a bad habit of doing things like that."

Finally, Faith couldn't stand the arguments any longer and stormed over to the argumentative group. Grabbing one of the axes, she slammed it into the ground with all her slayer strength behind it.

_Shhh'crack_!

Splintering into thousands of pieces, the remains of the axe glistened in the evening light.

They stared at her in shock-especially the dwarves. For they knew what she did not. They recognized what that axe had been created from. To break an axe so easily…this was no ordinary mortal woman, though what she was, they could not say.

"I thought that you were mature beings. This behavior is more suitable for two year olds in a nursery. Must I teach you better manners on the edge of this nice, sharp, pointy stick?" She idly twirled what was left of the handle in her hand, glaring at them in challenge. "I can you know. And with a joyful smile on my face."

As the sons of Elrond returned from the stables, they heard the distinct voice of the dark haired woman say coldly. "Or will you ruin my fun and behave?" Oz followed after them and took in the situation with a glance.

"Honey, calm down." He spoke soothingly, approaching her with his hands held out in surrender.

"I most certainly will not. They are acting like children," she snarled. "It's bugging me."

"It's the darkness and danger in the air," he corrected. "I feel it as well."

"That's no excuse. Their behavior could be hurting Willow," she firmly stated before allowing him to lead her away. Oz made sure that Spike and Angel followed them. The last thing they needed was for the vampires to make an impression on the company they found themselves in so soon after Faith did.

The werewolf sighed. _Sometimes_, he thought, _being logical and adult rotted_.

He couldn't even really depend upon Angel for help. That whole one-upmanship he had going with Spike being a deterrent for any aid. For a mature and sometimes reasonable vampire, he could be remarkably childish when it came to his relationship with the younger man.

Elrond had returned in time to witness this display of slayer prowess and his eyes narrowed, almost angrily.

Looking from Gandalf to Giles, he realized that both were unsurprised by this feat of strength. Icily, he addressed them. "A word with you gentlemen? My people will see to the comfort of your friends when they have had a chance to cool off."

"An excellent idea, my friend." Gandalf indicated for Giles to go before him and the three made their way to Elrond's library. Albeit, the watcher most reluctantly. Though he trusted in Oz's ability to keep Faith and the vampires in line, sometimes she escaped and cause havoc first. And when one considered that Spike was with them…he shuddered at the idea of the consequences of those two putting their heads together.

The other reason for his reluctance was Boromir. He had to speak to him before the man said anything to the gang from Sunnydale-about Gandalf's true identity. For his identity was intertwined with that of the Istari's-and no one knew the truth about him. The worst they knew of him was his rebellion in his teen-age years that brought about the Eyghon demon.

No one knew who and what he really was.

Not even his slayer. And keeping a secret from Buffy was tearing him apart.

She relied on him for guidance and direction and he was essentially betraying her. The sound of a throat clearing brought his gaze upward from its study of the ground and he met Gandalf's eyes.

It was a stern look, unaccustomed to his gaze, yet completely right. Yet, there was also compassion there. With one last glance behind him at the assemblage in the courtyard, the trio entered the cool sanctuary.

The elves and dwarves glanced from each other to the shards glinting in the sun on the ground.

Mithrill, a metal prized for its indestructible nature, lay between them in ruins-symbolically significant in the face of what was happening in Middle Earth these days if they did not unite. Chased for its beauty and strength while being incredibly light, and one swing from that odd girl had destroyed it.

"What do you say we not anger the dark haired woman and keep our quarrels between us and away from this place?" One of the dwarfs asked, glancing up at the elf that seemed to be the leader of the elves.

Prince Legolas looked at the dwarf, somewhat surprised by the relative kindness in his voice. "A fine idea, master dwarf."

"Gimli, son of Gloin, Prince Legolas," he introduced himself stiffly.

"Legolas Greenleaf," he introduced, hearing the sharp intake of breath. "Yes, our fathers know each other." His words were highly paradoxical considering the past that surrounded the relationship he was referring to.

"Know each other? Your father threw me into the dungeon without so much as a by your leave!" A graying dwarf stated angrily, pushing his way to the front to stand in front of the elf prince, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. Though his body bore some signs of aging, his ability to fight remained as agile as when he was the dwarf who'd traveled those many years ago with Bilbo.

"Father, not while that female may hear you," Gimli whispered warningly.

"I am not afraid of some puny, human female, no matter what she did to an axe. In fact, I say bring her on!" he growled. "I can take her any day of the week with one hand tied behind my back."

"Is that so?" she challenged. "Then why don't we have at it, old man? You and me, right here. Right now."

Oz sighed, shaking his head. Though he'd tried to get her away from the area, she had decided to go back and see what was going on with Willow and Boromir. "Faith, this is not our home. We have no right to challenge them."

"Yeah, missy, listen to your young fella. A little thing like you could not take a hardy dwarf like me," Gloin taunted.

"Master Dwarf," Oz faced him, eyes snapping. "Take this in the manner it was meant for I mean you no offense. Kindly, shut up."

The dwarves gasped, shocked by the sheer audacity of his words. It had been some time since anyone-save Mithrandir-had dared to address their king in such a fashion. In their opinion, the elves' words meant nothing and were discounted as so much dust to be trodden upon.

Some of the elves hid smirks behind their hands, not willing to turn the wrath of the strange girl called Faith upon them. In their estimation, the dwarves were more than welcome to the trouble she could-and would-cause.

"You dare speak to me like that?"

"That's my Oz," Faith smiled smugly. "Never one to let an empty headed blowhard insult his friends and family." She consciously chose not to use the term _pack_ because she didn't know how they would react to it. Considering their reaction to her fairly normal behavior, she figured it was a good idea.

"Empty headed blowhard?" Gloin approached her and studied her. "I do not see any points on your ears but you sound like a fickle, flighty elf."

"I have not now, nor have I ever been accused of such a thing." Faith's eyes narrowed in consideration before she suddenly bent down and tackled him. After a few moments of tussling, she pinned the dwarf under her. "So, now whose the little one?"

Gimli started forward, not sure if he was going to help or attack the odd female. But he stopped in his tracks, startled at a sound.

His father lay there, pinned beneath the stranger, and he began to laugh. Loudly and uproariously, especially when Faith pulled back and looked at him, shocked. "You are more than you seem, missy. I am Gloin, leader of these dwarves and you are?"

"Faith, adopted child of the Summers family." Rising to her feet, she hoisted him up easily.

Brushing off his hands, he glanced at her in consideration. "Mayhap you would be willing to teach me that move?"

"Sure, if you'll teach me that one that nearly had me pinned," she bargained.

"Done!" he agreed. "Tell me, do you drink beer?"

"Never on duty," she cheekily replied.

"Well, take it from me, you are officially off duty. Come along, Mistress Faith," he started off down the path that would take him to the rooms he knew he'd be staying in.

"I'll come-but only if you stop calling me _missy_ and call me Faith, shorty."

"Then I shall be Gloin to you," together they walked off. "And if ye ever call me shorty again, I will take your head off with my axe."

"You and what army, _shorty_?" she challenged teasingly, oddly touched by this dwarf.

"Like I would need one, _missy_," he retorted.

"That woman of yours is a very strange female," one of the elves commented once they were beyond sight and hearing.

"She isn't mine. Faith is the Slayer and belongs to herself alone," Oz quietly countered before disappearing himself.

One of the elves leaned over and whispered. "What do you make of them?"

"With the exception of the dwarves, I chose not to make any unwise judgments about the guests of Lord Elrond. He has his reasons," the elf loftily responded.

"As you say," he replied. "Though I think it odd that such strange outsiders are allowed to be amongst us."

"Do you not think that we are strange to them?"

Lady Arwen had watched the whole exchange, a small frown on her face. Deciding that there was nothing to be done about it now, she crossed over to where the Gondorian stood with his burden. The fact that Sam was with him did not surprise her.

Clearing her throat, she waited for them to look at her. "My Lord Steward? If you would be so kind as to follow me, we shall soon have Mistress Willow tucked up comfortably in her room where the healers shall see to her benefit."

Sam felt there was something he should say as they ascended the stairs. High above the noise below, in a secluded wing of the building, Arwen stopped. Both hobbit and man looked about curiously, never having seen anything like the home of the elves.

Wide windows opened up to greet the morning sun. A large bed, with a thick quilt of blue, sat in the center of the room. Two posters carved with care into the tree itself anchored the ephemeral canopy above the bed. Beside the bed, a dresser sat with a light bowl of water where some white flowers floated, adding a hint of perfume to the air.

The room was lovely, delicate in the elfish way, yet built to endure for all time.

Yet, it didn't feel right for Willow.

She watched them look around the room and, believing that they were looking for her father, told them what he was doing. "As soon as my father has finished conducting his business with Gandalf and Master Giles, he will tend to Mistress Willow."

"It is not that, Lady Arwen. We were just curious," Boromir said. Walking into the room, he placed Willow on the turned down bed. So as not to disturb her, he covered her as gently as possible.

Arwen followed his movements with probing eyes. This was the first man she had ever really seen for she did not count Strider as one of them, and he did not match the description she'd drawn in her mind of what men were like. In fact, he was nothing like she'd been told mankind was like.

This steward had an odd kind of barbaric grace to him. He was gentle with this girl and compassionate with the hobbit. There was no sign of impatience with the situation or greed when he looked about their luxurious dwelling. Or at least, there was none to be seen as she watched his actions.

It puzzled her.

There would be time later to figure it out and she felt it best they leave the healers to their work. "My Lord Steward, why do you not join your men? Mistress Rosenberg is in safe hands, you need not fear for her any longer. As for you, Master Gamgee, I am sure that your friends, Masters Baggins, Brandybuck and Took are looking for you."

Figuring he had been given his orders, he stroked Willow's sweaty forehead once. "I shall return soon," he promised. Turning to leave, he nodded at the elf who'd entered and took his place.

Sam followed after the two, giving one look behind him. Something tickled his mind relentlessly. Something felt disturbingly _wrong_ about how the elves handled Willow's condition. It did not seem quite right.

He could not explain it to himself, so how was he to explain it to the elves? They who were the wisest of all creatures in Middle Earth, experienced in ways of life and healing that he was not. After all, he was only a hobbit who tended to a small patch of earth. They had tended to the whole of Middle Earth for centuries.

What did he know of such things?

Seeing Frodo's concerned look, he could only lift his shoulders in a shrug. The two went to find their friends, meeting them on the stairs. Merry and Pippin deluged the two in their anxious questions about everything that had happened since they parted.

"Please," Sam wearily held up a silencing hand. "Let us discuss this somewhere else. I need to sit down."

"Are you all right?" Merry asked.

"I am tired," he shrugged off the concern easily. "It was a rough night. You only got a taste of Mistress Faith, she is a lot more intimidating the more time you spend with her."

"Shall we be on our way?" Frodo asked his cousin, turning the light of attention away from the uncomfortable Sam. Although he had been there since the previous day, he was still unsure of where everything was.

Merry and Pippin, on the other hand, had taken to exploring and moving about Rivendell with the ease of old time travelers.

"Right this way, gentlemen," Merry cheerfully gestured towards the right. "We have been situated together on the lower level, near the kitchens. Sam, we get as many breakfasts as we want, with as much food as we want."

"And you have never seen such food in all your life," Pippin proclaimed, smiling dreamily at the thought of it. "Nor tasted. And they actually feed us all of our breakfasts. Oh, it is absolutely delightful." They cheerfully talked all the way to their rooms and by the time they arrived, Sam was feeling much better.

Meanwhile, the Ring remained as It had been. Encased and imprisoned, unable to seduce and betray. It could not even summon aid to Its side.

Even the wretched creature, Gollum, was beyond Its touch.

It could only wait for Its freedom to come. Wait and plot Its revenge.

Days passed slowly by as the delegates continued to gather and work out their positions for the coming conference. There was a lot on the line now that Isildur's Bane had been found and brought to light. The Gondorians especially worried over what was to come because it was due to their king that the Bane still existed.

And Boromir's distraction was not helping matters any. The son of Denethor should be among them, not acting like a nursemaid to some strange girl. That oddly ill and pathetic critter was in the best of hands. Lord Elrond was a known healer. He would best help her and did not need the Gondorian Lord to act as a fetch and carry boy.

Nor should he be teaching that weird creature with the scandalous dress and attitude about warfare-no matter how highly skilled she was. That female had no manners and very little sense of how to treat a highborn lord.

And she was a woman of questionable repute, warrior or not. Though comfortable with the idea of female warriors, after all they were seeking an alliance with the Rohirrim, who had a heritage of fighting women. They did not need to see one running one of their own ragged.

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Faith wandered about the place, bored and uncomfortable.

Partly because her newest friend, Gloin, was unavailable for a few rounds of wrestling, drinking, and storytelling due to this conference that everybody was tied up in knots about. The spins that dwarf could put on things was vastly entertaining-and helped clarify a few things that bothered her.

And Oz had been captured by those blasted elf twins, _again_. It had been a while since she'd seen him alone. Her other outlet, Boromir, was in counsel with those old fogies who needed his help desperately. Angel and Spike were off hunting. The elves, being squeamish sorts and Willow still being out of commission, the vampires had had to find other resources.

Although, they wouldn't have fed off the elves anyway, they did have morals. Not many, of course, but some. Besides, something about what they were offset their blood, making it no better than dead blood to the vampires.

And there was no way on this planet or any other they might come across that Faith was baring _her_ neck to them. She wasn't Buffy, after all. No vampire was going to bite her if she had any say in it.

Not that having either around would've done her any good, she moodily thought. Spike couldn't practice with her, while Angel spent an awful lot of time with that Strider fellow.

But mostly she out of sorts because of the long, flowing elven dress she wore. Being transported suddenly rarely gave one time to properly pack, so she had nothing to wear save these frippery things. At times, she thought, the outfits of the dwarves would've been preferable. They might not have been feminine or beautiful, but they were more practical and would suit her purposes better.

Finally, she couldn't take the way it curled around her legs and tripped her up any longer and took out her knife. Hacking away at the long skirt and tearing at the sleeves, she transformed the dresses into something that she was more comfortable with-and wouldn't shock the elves.

Well, anymore than she already had.

Standing back, the elves watched her walk by in her new outfit in utter bafflement. It showed off an indecent amount of leg and what exactly was that above her knee? Did they have any right to be seeing it? They decided at last that the strange alterations she'd made and the colorful decoration of the creature must have some cultural significance and that it was best to say nothing about it.

Still, the wanton destruction of good clothes did nothing to improve their estimation of mankind.

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Elrond felt like he was drowning in uncertainty for Willow remained captive to the deathlike condition she was in when she first arrived. All his knowledge meant nothing in the face of this sickness. Nothing that he or anyone else did helped.

If he had known what the expression being at one's wit's end meant, he would've agreed with it whole-heartedly. As it was, he could only sit by her bedside and do his best to heal her.

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Sam sat in the garden and stared out at the plants, feeling strangely disconnected.

Frodo watched from the side, worried. This apathy was unusual for a hobbit. Oh, Sam hid it well enough but they had been friends for years. There was something holding onto his friend tightly and it was not letting him go. It was more than just worry for Willow; it was something that seemed to be eating him up from the inside.

Suddenly, the gardener jumped right up and ran to him, "I think I know what is wrong."

"What?" he blinked, not understanding where this had come from.

"Willow is not getting better because she has been _uprooted_."

"What?" Frodo asked again. "What are you talking about, Sam?"

"Listen to me, Master Frodo, I know that I have got it. The first time we saw her weakened from magical usage, was after she went against the Nazgul, right?"

"Right," he slowly agreed.

"Well, Master Angel told her to _ground_ _herself_ _in_ _the_ _living_. I think he must have meant the living earth," he earnestly explained. "I helped then, like at the Ford. She drew strength from me. I think she is still doing it because she is up there in that tower room. But it is not working. She needs to feel the earth beneath her."

"Sam, that is brilliant." Frodo complimented, understanding dawning at last. "We need to get her down here. Where are Merry and Pippin?"

"Right here," Merry said, an apple in his hand. Realizing that something was happening, he asked, looking between the two of them. "What is going on?"

"We are going to help Willow," Sam told them. "I just do not know exactly how right now."

"But we do know that she needs to be closer to the earth," Frodo offered, taking some of the pressure off of Sam. It was the least he could do for his friend after all Sam had done for him over their journey. "We have some idea about how to go about it." He then outlined the conclusion Sam had come to and what it meant.

"So, you want us to carry her down here?" Merry asked, wanting to make sure he got the gist of the idea.

"That would be the basic idea, yes," Frodo nodded. He seemed to think there was nothing wrong with the suggestion that they move the tall human girl down a couple flights of stairs and into the garden unassisted by others.

"You do realize that she is bigger than us, right?" Merry asked, somewhat dubious of the simple sounding plan.

"With the four of us working together, it should not be to hard. Come on, she helped us without even knowing anything us except our names." Sam pleaded, a slightly desperate look on his face. "Lord Elrond would not help us for all we have to go on is my gut feeling and I have little real knowledge of this kind of thing. And finding Boromir would be most difficult in this press of bodies.

Pippin shrugged. "Well, it sounds all right to me, Merry."

"If you are confident that this is the best course to take," he hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. After all, what did they have to lose? "Then we might as well do it."

"What do we do first?" Pippin asked.

They looked at Sam, who didn't know what to say. Slowly, the words tumbled from his lips as an idea slowly formed. "Willow's in bad shape. The earth is what she needs to feel most, so I think we should look for a place not many visit so that she can get her rest but do whatever it is she does so that she can heal."

They were silent with thought, trying to figure out if they knew such a place. At first, nothing came to mind. Then Merry had an idea. "Come on. I know just the place."

Leading the way, Merry took his friends down a path. They rushed passed the strangely companionable Legolas and Gimli, both of whom turned to watch them go. "What do you suppose they are up to, Master Elf?"

"I do not know," Legolas slowly replied. "We should inform Elrond of their behavior."

He snorted derisively. "Mayhap the good elf would think we have let our wits go as many of my company believes of me for spending time with you."

"You may have a point, Master Dwarf. But my keen eyes picked up the anxiety on their faces that your smaller, less adept eyes would miss." Legolas couldn't resist the dig.

"Master Elf, your eyes may be sharper than my own, but your intelligence leaves much to be desired. In the case of hobbits, I fear that you have little knowledge and are judging them through your own limited experience with creatures other than your own."

"Are you saying that I am less than informed as to the true nature of those not of elven birth? What makes you such an expert on hobbits?" he contested, eyes twinkling in anticipation of the coming statement. This dwarf might not have been his usual preferred company and, considering the past of their people, that was no surprise.

Yes, he was far from someone Legolas would've spent time with under other circumstances.

But he was vastly entertaining and so, he often sought out his company when things became a little to boring. The Council was slowly taking shape but it would be a few days before they would actually begin.

Here a sly grin crossed Gimli's face. "Art thou forgetting that my father and a company of dwarves that I personally know traveled much with the company of a hobbit known to the both of our people, one Bilbo Baggins?"

"And art thou forgetting that I have a stronger claim on him?" Legolas slyly inquired. "For your Master Bilbo has spent much time in the company of my father." There reminder was pointed, for it was common knowledge that Bilbo had spent more time with elves than any other beings that he'd met in his travels.

Gimli scowled slightly, but there was no real malice behind it. Oddly enough, he had found this elven prince to be…sufficiently tolerable. Thus, he did not find it to burdensome to spend time with him. "Mayhap that is true, but he doesn't seem all that fond of your father, considering all the time he spends among Elrond and his people."

"As do you," Legolas said.

"Ah, but Lord Elrond is the most gracious host. He is by far the best elf I have ever had the pleasure of being associated with."

"Do you have a vast experience then, Master Gimli?" he asked. "Maybe you should accompany me to the Halls of Mirkwood and enjoy my own brand of hospitality."

Gimli snorted. "A trip to Mirkwood and see the infamous dungeons of your people? I think I would prefer to hear the stories-and remain free and clear of them."

Legolas smirked slightly, unable to stop himself. He thought it best to redirect the conversation before it lost its humorous tone and became less friendly. "Still, I do not think such behavior is normal with hobbits. Bilbo has often said that they are rather restful creatures, unless a good time is to be had."

"All right, elf, ye've made your point. We shall see Lord Elrond once I have defeated you."

"You defeat me? That day will never come," he asserted.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you, Master Elf? But it is my turn to chose what skill we deal with this match," he taunted.

"Any game or skill you choose, I shall always outwit you," he retorted. "And thou knowest it, foolish one."

"We shall see then, shan't we, daft elf?"

With one last, worried glance behind them to where the hobbits had disappeared, Legolas followed the dwarf. "Indeed, we shall."

Merry led them to a bridge and they crossed over, heading up a small, grassy knoll to a shady spot. Lightly tinged with autumnal colors, the leaves still held the vibrancy of spring. Standing back, they watched Sam walk around the area. It looked as though he was mapping it out in his mind, planning a garden or something.

Holding his breath, Merry waited anxiously. "Well?" he asked, bursting with impatience.

From his position on the ground, the hobbit was feeling the warm soil. Sam looked up, brought out of his contemplation by the voice and nodded to himself. Slowly, his smile blossomed in delight. "It will work, Merry. The light, the water, and the soil is just right for our needs. It is perfect."

"Well, what do we do now?" Pippin asked.

Brushing off his hands, he rose and shrugged. "Make a place for her to rest. I just do not know if it should be under the ground or if lying on top of it would be all right. I really wish there was someone we could talk to."

"What about Master Giles? Wouldn't he know?"

"I thought about him but decided that if he knew, she would not be up there." Sam indicated to one of the towers. "No, I think we are on our own this time." So saying, he turned to go inside and get a few things.

Furtively, the four of the smuggled out a few blankets and something for Willow to rest comfortably upon. Once they had finished, they made their way up the stairs with Pippin the lead. The young hobbit may have been the most mischievous of them but he was also the quickest to spot any trouble and move them out of the way.

Although, this useful talent usually only came out when they were doing something they knew they shouldn't.

Entering the room, they made sure that no one was there and walked over to the bed. "She looks dead," Pippin whispered fearfully. This was the first time he'd set eyes on her since the Ford and he didn't like to see her like this. It just wasn't natural to the Willow he'd come to know.

The pale, pale girl lay on the bed, nearly disappearing into the white sheets. The pixie face was so thin they could see right through it. Wrapped in a clean gown, she should've been warmer but it didn't do much except hang limply around her body. Her red hair seemed dirty and lackluster, though they knew that the elves had been cleansing her daily.

Signs of life were scattered about the room.

Sunlight streamed in from the wide window off to the right and the smell of perfume lightly filled it. A vase of flower blossoms decorated the vase by her bed, adding a bright dash of color to the soft brown dresser. The chair Elrond could often be found in rested against a wall, a large book resting in the seat, contrasting with the sea green of the seat with its velvety black cover.

None of this mattered.

Willow looked as if she'd been prepared for a funeral-and not the one they teased Boromir about. But her own funeral.

Taking hold of her, the four made their way out into the hall and down one of the lesser-used stairways. It was easier to carry her than they had feared, testifying to the amounts of weight she had lost over her incarceration.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice demanded harshly from behind them.


	4. You're Going To What?

_Author's Note: This is something important and I should've mentioned it sooner. There are only two couples in this that are set in stone, Sauron and his Ring and Galadriel and Celeborn. Oh, no vamp face because that is just to confusing when you consider the evil forces._

_Author's Thanks to:_

_Texaswokie: glad you don't think Faith's being ooc and that the Oz/Faith thing is not to weird. I'm also thankful that you didn't mind the whole telling off the elves, though she did include the dwarves in that. I did think it odd that the fairest of all the races would be so bigoted and not really care. But then, that is the way they were created._

_Brutal2003: Buffy's coming. I promise. She's taking a bit longer because Glory isn't the only figure in Sunnydale that has power over the fate of the slayer. The Hellmouth has a stake in her remaining on Earth. But I guarantee that she's be coming. Can you tell I'm making this reason up as I go along? In all honesty though, I don't know how to explain why she's so far behind the others. As for Xander, he's going to be mentioned. Soon. Not in this chapter but the next one. That's one thing I am sure of. I think. :-)_

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Merry, who had always been a bit of a pit bull in the face of danger, faced the slayer others had avoided. Even though she intimidated him, he didn't let it show. This was, after all, a friend of Willow's. Surely, she would understand their desire to help. "We are taking her out for a bit of fresh air. Sam thought that she could do with a change of scenery."

"Is that so?" she asked, facing the hobbit in question. With her hands on her hips, she stared at him, pleased when he didn't back down.

"Yes, Mistress Faith, it is."

"And what makes you think you know best what is good for Willow?"

"I only know that she gains strength from the living and a lot of that comes from the earth," he stared at her.

Slapping her forehead as though his words had struck some forgotten cord within her mind, she cursed up a blue streak. Taking her friend from them, she followed them to the area they'd prepared. Gently, she placed Willow upon the thick quilt and sat back. "I'm no expert, but it might be better if she were actually in the ground. Letting the ground cradle her like a babe."

"We thought of that, but did not know how to go about doing it safely. She does need to breath and we were afraid that she might choke on the dirt if we tried." Frodo started, then looked at Sam. Something about his friend was different. "Are you all right?"

In fact, Sam seemed to be breathing easier.

"I am fine, Master Frodo. I feel like a giant weight has been lifted from off my shoulders."

A soft moan caught their attention and they shifted their gazes to the resting Willow. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, and then she rolled onto her side, taking part of the quilt with her. Color eased back into her cheeks and she seemed to be resting easier.

Pippin watched Faith for a moment, sitting down beside her. "You are very strong for a girl, are you not."

It wasn't a question, but Faith treated it like one anyway. "Yup."

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeated, staring at him in confusion. "What do you mean why?"

"I mean, why are you so strong if it is not normal?"

"Well, Pippin, I'm the Slayer."

"What does that mean?" Merry asked. "People keep saying it but no one here knows what it is."

She shrugged, leaning against a tree trunk. "I'm the Chosen One."

"Chosen for what?"

Expelling a breath, she tried to put into words what she had always accepted and never thought about. "It means that thousands of years ago the big boys in the charge of things got it into their heads that a champion was needed to fight the big bad that crawled all over the earth. So, a girl was given gifts of strength, healing, stamina, blah, blah, blah, and they called her the slayer."

"So, you are old? Like the elves?"

That comment caused a startled laugh to erupt from her. "Oh, not quite, Pippin. I'm not that old."

"But you said the slayer was created thousands of years ago. That is a long time, right?" he asked. Sam nodded and a confused look formed on his face as he turned back to face her. "And the slayer is you."

"Well, yes. But there is a slayer born into every generation. That's what me and Buffy are," she floundered about with her explanation, noticing the way the other hobbits sat down and listened to her. "When she died, I was called."

"But if she is dead, how come you guys talk about her like she is alive?"

"See, B wasn't dead that long," she struggled with her words, trying to answer Merry's question. A part of her wished that Giles was there. This sort of thing was what he did after all.

Or that Frodo and Sam would ask questions, they at least could figure out what she was trying to say. "Look, why not ask Will when she's back to normal. She's much better at this than I am. But you should know, she sometimes babbles."

"Oh, I always ask her stuff. She is really good at answering," Pippin smiled. "I even asked her if it hurt when she got bit. But I never did learn what pain sensors are. What are they?"

"Faith?" Boromir called out suddenly, freeing her from answering his question. "Are you over there?"

Exclaiming, she leapt up, moved into the shadows and came up behind him. "Nope, you big, loud mouthed lug, I'm right here. What's up?"

"Faith, I just came from there," Boromir's eyes narrowed, suspiciously. Not being a fool, he knew when the dark haired slayer was up to something. This was one of those times.

"Don't blame me if you can't tell a slayer's trailing behind you."

"Right," he drawled, not fooled by the innocent expression.

Changing the subject, she linked their arms together. "What did you want with little ol' me?"

"Sparing practice," he said, adding dryly. "It seems that your restlessness is worrisome to our host and his guests."

"I'll go along-as long as you, my very dear Boromir, promise not to disappear on me like you did to Buffy," she teased. "My dear sister slayer was looking forward to it and most disappointed in you when did not show up. And frustration does not cover what she felt when you departed."

"Hence her rather intense desire to kill me," he dryly said.

Faith laughed. "Well, what do you know? Boromir can figure things out." Passing Strider and Elrond, they nodded their helloes.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Faith."

She smirked, pulling him along with her-and away from the hobbits. "You looked like you could use it, seeing as how you've got low self-esteem."

"Ah, no. That would be you," he quipped.

"Hah, hah. Very funny," she mock-scowled.

"I thought so," he smugly grinned.

The ranger watched the two go by, troubled by the strange camaraderie they exhibited. It did not seem normal for a man and a woman to be so flirtatiously friendly and discern that it wasn't sexual. Oh, there was some kind of attraction being that they were two healthy, normal people, but it wasn't serious.

Exchanging a glance with Lord Elrond, their conversation about the newcomers and the troubles plaguing the world resumed. "I do not understand this Glorificus but I dread that she is more to fear than what we are dealing with now."

Shaking his head, he felt shock that his foster father feared that the power that brought them to their world was an evil greater than Sauron. "But how can that be?"

"There are powers that exist in the world that we do not always understand. This being, this Glorificus, is one of them. She is what one would call a goddess and her power is derived from a dimension of great evil. Other than that, I cannot say for we have never heard of such beings in our world before," he explained.

"That you say this, troubles me greatly," Strider murmured.

"As it does me to admit my puzzlement for I prefer to know what I am about to get my people into," Elrond agreed, face troubled. Facing away from his adopted son, he did not see the aborted move the man had made in an attempt to comfort him. "Although Gandalf assures me that they are harmless, I do not like the feel of the strange magic that Mistress Willow and Master Giles possess. It is not natural to our world."

Puzzled gray eyes looked at him, "I knew Willow had magical abilities. This I know from personal experience. But I did not realize that Master Giles had power as well. He did not exhibit any in our presence."

"No, he would not have," Elrond agreed. "Gandalf had him under a binding oath to do no magic here until they had spoken. I do not know the full story behind it but I believe that at one point in his apprenticeship to Gandalf, Master Giles performed some forbidden magic unknowing of what it was. Thus, even though it was an act done in innocent ignorance, he was sent away until such time had come that he would be more responsible for himself and his actions."

"That would explain the familiarity Master Giles and Gandalf have with each other," the ranger nodded thoughtfully. "Though I was not aware that the Istari took apprentices seeing as how their dominion is not like ours."

"Gandalf assures me that they do not. Giles was a special case due to his status in his own world," Elrond explained.

Knowing that the elf lord would say no more, Strider turned the conversation to another topic that had troubled him. "But what of Lord Boromir and his knowledge? One cannot deny that it is extensive compared to our own."

"Lord Boromir's knowledge of these people is something I have yet to discover. Perhaps it would be best for _you_ to talk to him, he _is_ to be your Steward when you claim the throne of Gondor." The pointed look that met the ranger's reminded him of certain things that he hesitated to do.

The idea wasn't a reasonable one, so Strider couldn't argue with it. Lord Elrond was usually right in such things. Still, he was not yet ready to admit to who he was. The very thought of being the king filled him with dread. The throne seemed more like a cage to him, then a privileged birthright.

"Father, I hate to disturb your conversation but I believe that there is something you should see," Arwen called from one of the windows in the house.

"I will be right there. If you would excuse me," he bowed to Strider and left the ranger alone in the courtyard. The troubled sound in her voice puzzled Elrond. Usually, she was calm and levelheaded. Whatever this problem was, it must be urgent.

Strider also wondered what had occurred in Rivendell to cause an elf to sound so…worried. It wasn't the normal manner of elves to be anything less than in full control of their emotions. Yet, both father and daughter had revealed discomfort and unease in their voices.

There had to be some reason behind it and he wondered if it had anything to do with the strangers they found in their midst. The strangers with their troubling secrets and puzzling identities that caused such contention amongst them.

Strider wandered around the grounds deep in thought.

Glancing over at one of the large, shady trees, he saw Angel sitting under it, reading a book. Beside him, Spike sat, chewing something idly. For once, both vampires-whatever that meant exactly for he never did get an actual explanation of what that entailed exactly-were silent and comfortable with one another.

Undoubtedly an odd sight but one that would be a relief if Master Giles and Mistress Faith were to become aware of it, the two of them had been giving the slayer and the watcher a bad time.

A deprecating grin twisted his lips at the thought of the slayer, another term he was unfamiliar with. After her rather stunning, yet memorable introduction, most of the inhabitants seemed to avoid her. They just didn't know how to deal with a woman of her strength-and temperament.

Recalling the unusual strength that Faith possessed made him realize that she must be one of a kind.

Well, her and this Buffy girl he'd been hearing about.

Though from what he heard of her, he wasn't sure he wanted to meet a girl who wanted to kill a man for something he couldn't control. Boromir could not be held accountable for leaving their world, could he?

It also made him feel rather uncomfortable for not wanting to deal with his own fate. It could not be easy to be one of a kind, yet she did it. From what he could surmise from what he overheard, the slayer was born to kill.

In fact, they all seemed to be dealing with a burden of fate.

Angel and Spike, through magic and some kind of artifice, went against their very natures and fought the evil that they were a part of. At least, that's what he assumed from what little he had learned about them, vampires were inhuman creatures.

Giles was paying for a crime that he'd committed against the very powers of life he'd sworn to protect and uphold. Oz had his future disrupted in the oddest way for he literally _became_ another creature. The man turned into a beast.

Yet, none of them seemed to fear him.

Strider supposed it could have been because of their own unique capabilities and the gentleness of Oz himself. Still, that did not come close to explaining their comfort around him when he was in wolf form.

And then there was Willow.

Of them all, she confused him the most.

Powerful enough to be elf or Istari, she seemed to lose that strength of authority after exercising what was only a minimal amount of magic to his untutored mind. He had seen the enchantments of the Istari, of the elves, what Willow did didn't even come close to what they were truly capable of.

Yet, she had become utterly wasted doing what little she did.

What kind of creature was she that such powers ran through her, yet did not protect her from extremis? It seemed a contradictory way to exist to him. Why give her such capabilities, then deny her the physical ability to exercise them?

Bumping into Elladan, he was shocked to see the worried look on his face. "What is wrong?" he asked, helping him up.

"Willow has disappeared," he replied shortly.

"What?" he started, only to be stopped when Pippin spoke up as he passed them.

"No she has not. She is in the back garden."

"What?" The elf grabbed hold of the hobbit, slightly shaking him. "What did you say?"

Pippin's eyes widened, slightly worried by this reaction. "I said, she is in the garden."

"Elladan," Strider warned him and the elf released the hobbit with an apology. "Why?"

"We felt she needed a new environment," he cheerfully said.

"How did you get her down there?"

"Faith helped us, Master Giles, she is strong," Pippin said in greeting. "May I get us some food now? Willow watching is hungry work."

"Just one more question," Elrond delayed him with a slight smile. "Why?"

"Ask Sam," he answered with a shrug. "He is the one who told us about her connection with the living. Said he felt that she'd been uprooted."

Giles groaned, angry for ignoring what he knew of her abilities. "Of course, how could I be so stupid? Dunderhead that I am, she's an earthen spirit."

Elrond glared at him. "Something else that you conveniently forgot to mention?"

"Well, I have had other things to occupy my mind. It is hard to keep track of all the details while being worried by life threatening danger," he snapped, returning the glare with one of his own. "I shall try harder next time to bring a list of all the things one must remember when they find that they've jumped their own reality to another one."

The Lord of Rivendell refrained from commenting to this rather provocative comment. "I shall have her moved to one of the ground rooms."

"Near the dwarves?" Elladan asked, somewhat disgustedly.

"No. The last thing she needs is their raucous behavior to trouble her while she is healing," he decided. "But ground rooms would be best for the _sidhe_. I wish we could place her in the underground chambers, it would be more preferable."

"_Sidhe_?"

"Yes, Master Giles. Willow is not an earthen spirit, as you believed. She is a _sidhe_, one of the faery folk," Elrond confirmed.

Giles sank to his knees, stunned. _Sidhe_? _To us, she would be more along the lines of a minor goddess_, he thought numbly. "Oh, I have mishandled her training from the beginning, haven't I?"

Not knowing what to say, everyone remained silent. Even Elrond remained quiet for it was he who had caused this upheaval and now was not the time to assuage it. There was really nothing left to be said anyway. She was what she was.

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Strider waited two days before going to visit Willow. He'd delayed because he felt guilty for taking advantage of her when he had recognized just how depleted she was, both physically and magically.

But they had _needed_ what she could do for them. What had he been expected to do under the circumstances?

Upon entering the room, he was immediately struck with the sheer vitality the unconscious girl exuded. Moving cautiously, he sat in the seat by the bed. Pale and fragile, yet infinitely strong this girl was proving to be.

It scared him.

Opening her eyes suddenly, the green meet his and she slightly smiled. "Come," she whispered. "Pocket."

"Pocket?" he repeated, leaning closer to her.

"Shirt," she rasped. "Blood for boys."

"I do not understand. Blood for Angel and Spike?" he questioned. "But they need real blood, not dead blood."

"Bottles. Provide," she coughed. "Supply. Promise me, give it them?"

Though he still didn't understand the meaning of her words, he promised that he'd make sure they got the bottles. After a while, she settled back into sleep and he sat there, watching her breath slowly. Getting up, he found Elrond and asked him where Willow's clothes had been taken. When told that Faith had them, he swallowed and made his way to see her, slightly sick with nervousness.

"Red's shirt?" she asked, wondering if he'd become Red's stalker. This was the guy who had hovered over her while she'd been trying to help Willow out of her clothes. And he did have that creepy, dark exterior-and he got along way to well with brood boy for her comfort. "Why do you need it?"

"She said there was blood in bottles for Spike and Angel," he gestured with a hand, indication that he was at a loss to explain it. "I do not know what she meant, but I promised that they would get them."

"Well, Red never does anything without a reason. Wait here while I get it." Disappearing around a corner, he waited and nodded at the dwarves who passed him. Returning with the shirt, she tossed it at him and watched him search the pocket.

Pulling out two small bottles on slender, white gold chains, he shook his head despondently. "These cannot possibly fill their appetites!"

"She did it," Spike exclaimed hoarsely from behind the ranger. "That bloody little bint actually did it. She brought "_A Vampyre's Feast_" to us." Practically smashing the tiny bottle, the blonde tossed it back and recapped it.

Faith's head shook at the mention of what Willow had been doing. _Stupid twit_, she thought, _instead of healing, she's messing around with getting food for the vamps_.

"How do you feel?" Strider asked cautiously. Impossible though it seemed, the vial still appeared to be full.

"Fine," he replied, turning to leave them.

"Are you sure?"

"The little witch rarely leaves her work half-done, prat." Spike frowned, feeling affronted by the ranger's disbelieving attitude.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "I meant no offense, Master Spike."

"I'm sure," he muttered, not appeased. "I'll have the Great Poof visit you both. No doubt he'll be as interested in this as I am. Finally! No more meager meals. And no more letting the great gelled one bite me."

Angel walked up, sending a disgusted look at the retreating back of the blonde. "Brat," he growled, revealing that he'd heard the words. "What have you got?" he asked, turning his attention to the slayer and the ranger, noting with some curiosity the vial in Strider's hand.

"I have no idea, though it made Spike delirious with joy," he gave him the bottle. "Willow sent them."

In a more reserved, but no less enthusiastic manner than Spike, he drank it. A euphoric smile crossed his face and Faith stepped back, eyes narrowing. Face hardening in determination, she withdrew her stake. "Whoa, boy. Don't go all Angelus on us. I'd hate to mess up Willow's work."

It was half-teasingly spoken.

But the iron hard edge to it spoke of her seriousness. And the stake in her hand was not casually held.

Angel opened his eyes and glowered. "I'm not _that_ far gone, slayer, though it is nice to know that you care more for Willow's work than the welfare of my soul."

"I kill demons, not see to the soul's well being," she retorted and replaced the stake. "You want that, see a preacher."

"What are you talking about? Who is this Angelus?" It was the second time he'd heard of this being and it bothered him because there was a hint of danger to the being. At least, their reaction to him gave it that feel. Not to mention that everyone seemed intent on exterminating him.

"Angelus is the demon within me. Many years ago, I messed with the wrong people. A very powerful group known as gypsies," he reiterated. "As a result, they cursed me to live with a full recognition of what I had done as a demon. To regret every single act I had perpetuated among mankind in my pursuit of number one-me."

"Cursed? Then why are you worried? Are not curses permanent?" Strider asked.

"Normally they are but this one comes with a clause. A moment of perfect, true happiness will cause the soul to flee and the demon to regain control. It has happened twice, though it almost happened a third time with a drug that simulated happiness that came close." He informed him with a pained grimace.

"Drug?"

"Artifice," he explained. "There was an actress who thought eternal life sounded wonderful. Let's just say that my performance which ran closer to Angelus that I like, changed her mind."

Faith hid a smirk, "that's putting it lightly." She ignored his look.

"So, how did the others times happen?"

"Once with Buffy. The second time was with the birth of my son, Connor."

"I thought that you are one of the living dead. Is this not truth?" Arwen's voice announced her presence.

"Yes," he bowed respectfully to her, acknowledging her presence. "But there were extenuating circumstances behind it. Namely, a prophecy."

Being the daughter of a powerful seer, she knew of such things. Prophecies were not uncommon in Middle-Earth. "Where is you son now?"

"In safety due to Amy and Willow's spell," he began.

"Amy?" Strider interrupted to ask. If there was another _sidhe_ out there like Willow, they really needed to be aware of her and get her to safety.

"Madison. Glory got her," Faith's harsh voice said. It brassed her off that she had failed in her duty to protect the witch when she'd escorted her home. Though everyone tried to tell her it wasn't her fault, that she'd been shot full of a drug that took away her slayer strength, she wouldn't let the guilt go.

As far as she was concerned, she and no one else had killed Amy.

"If not for Wesley, I would have lost him to something far worse. Wesley found some drugs in my blood that made me hunger for my child. Fearing for Connor's life, he took him down to Sunnydale and told them everything. They sent my son along with Wesley to safety," Angel resumed the story easily, guiding the attention away from her. With a sharp look, he warned Faith to say no more.

Right now, they didn't need to know everything that happened on Earth. There would be time enough for that at the council they were attending. "Was there something you wished, my lady?"

"No, Master Angel. I wondered what occurred down here to cause your friend, Spike, such unusual joy," she quietly spoke, touched by his sad tale and the strength he showed in sacrificing the life he could've had with his son.

A smile graced her face at the sight of the face Angel made at the reference to his 'friendship' with Spike.

Spending a few days in the company of the vampires, the elf found herself more and more able to relax around them. Especially Master Angel, he made himself so approachable to them all and willing to do all that he could to relieve their minds. There also seemed to be much about them that the First Born could relate to.

The fact that they shared immortality bound them together. The stories both men shared made them approachable and real, though there was still much to be disconcerted by.

The elf was not deluded enough to think otherwise of them.

"Willow has provided us with food," he began.

"Is it wise to use her in such a fashion?" Her question was not harsh, just concerned for the girl. Though she was doing much better, the _sidhe_ was far from healed.

Angel shook his head. "How little you know of our Willow. Once something gets into that redhead of hers, nothing short of death will stop her from acting upon it. And even death's powerful grip I fear would not be enough to stop her."

"Still, to allow her to heal partly and push her to serve your needs," she maintained, "is generally considered to be self-serving and rude."

Faith snorted. "Listen, Lady, no one _asks_ our Red to do anything. She does these kinds of things on her own. That one's always been something of a rebel."

"Anyway, this little vial contains all the nourishment we shall need. The animals are once more safe from our fangs. These will always replenish themselves." Examining the chain, he nodded in approval before putting it on. "And these chains will not break, thus we will never be found without them."

"How is Willow?" Arwen asked, not having seen the girl since the move.

Strider could feel everyone waiting for his answer and replied reluctantly, not quite willing to commit to the fact that she was doing better in case that changed. "She seems much stronger. There is a sense of fresh life about her."

"She is adapting to the changes," Oz quietly said.

"Is she alone?"

"When I left her, there was no one about. Of course, Master Gamgee may have joined her since then," Strider replied.

"Then I think Oz and I will go visit her, see her before the fun starts. I hear we're to be in on some big to do shindig." The reply sounded like a definite statement-except for the slight question in it.

Strider sighed. "You are correct. I must see Master Giles about the Ring, I had forgotten about the protection around it. Lady Arwen. Angel." Bowing, he left the two alone on his quest to find the watcher.

"What is it like?" Lady Arwen asked when they were alone.

"It?" Angel repeated, confused. Sensing that this would be a long conversation, he walked towards a bench and waited until she had sat down. Also, the sensation of being full after weeks of starvation left him feeling slightly breathless and dizzy-and heavy.

"Living eternally surrounded by the dying? Knowing that you will never age?"

Angel thought it an odd question to ask but didn't want to offend the Lady Arwen by saying so. "Don't you know?"

Studying the dark haired man intently, she pondered her words. Once she accepted that he did not mock her query, she replied. "I have always lived with those like myself. This life is all I have ever known; I would know what another is like."

"Why? Are you not leaving these shores?" he questioned, slightly confused by her answer.

"My people are but I have been asked by someone I care for to stay." She hesitated to say more at this time, until she knew if he would speak with her of what he knew.

"Why are you asking me?"

"I believe that you will tell me what I wish to know without bias or remorse" she hesitated, before deciding to let him in. "Strider and I have become…_fond_ of each other over the years. He loves me and desires that we spend the rest of his life as man and wife."

"Where is the problem in that?" he asked when she had fallen silent for a time. "Strider seems to be a good man, if somewhat shattered."

"Yes, he is at that and will become so much more. I do not know if I love him enough to give up all that I understand." Looking up at him, she realized that he didn't comprehend what she spoke of. "To be with him, truly with him, I would live with him among those who are his people for my own are leaving these shores. The time of the elves has come. If I stay with him, I must forsake my immortality."

For a moment, Angel remained silent, gathering his thoughts. "I don't know quite what to say for, unlike you, I have never really known anything but this dying life. Even as a mortal, I knew only death. All mortals are born dying. In our world, the demons are the unnatural creatures for they defy the natural law by their undying state."

He hesitated, wondering if he should dare compare his pre-souled days with his post-souled days with her situation. At last, he decided that, presumptuous as it may be, he would do it. "What I am about to tell you may not really apply, but hear me out."

"Go on," she encouraged, leaning forward to give him her full attention. This opening line intrigued her and she felt that her answer might be in what he had to share with her.

Still, he hesitated before gathering his words and speaking. "Prior to the soul curse, I didn't really recognize that fragility and desperate beauty of mortal lives. To me, they were an easy meal. Sometimes they were my prey and I enjoyed the hunt immensely. But that was the extent of my fascination for humans. Mortals were only good as food and entertainment for the superior beings-meaning my race.

"When I first received my soul, the shock of it crippled me. I could not force myself to move in any direction. For a time, I tried to deny what happened to me, that things had changed for me since this revenge. But they were."

"How?" she pressed, fascinated.

"The soul put me on a level with humans. It leveled the field because I could feel for them once more. With the soul, I became integrated in their world. It changed me, forcing me to care and remember all that I been and had become. I lived in regret and fear, so I hid from them and my own kind. I didn't _want_ to feel _anything_, for _anybody_. Being what I am means to deal with death. Having a soul changed how death affected me because I _knew_ that, while some things may kill me, there are endless and infinite ways to kill those I now identified with.

"I had to learn pain and loss all over again through my dealings with mankind. It never gets easier. For you to decide, you must think about accepting the reality of death's constant companionship. It strikes without regard to all people. Death is the one thing that is truly unprejudiced."

Angel stopped, finished. He had laid himself completely bare for this woman he barely knew and told her things he'd never spoken of to anyone before. Arwen felt humbled and grateful for his consideration. "Thank you," she whispered.

"My true reward would be if my words aid you in some fashion. Have they?"

"They have given me much to think about for you have told me things no one else tried. I must reflect on what I have heard for it is much to take in."

Angel nodded. "A wise idea under the circumstances, my lady. Remember, this is a choice only you can make for you alone will bear the burden of its outcome. While Strider may wish to help you, he can only alleviate your pain but he cannot carry it for you."

"That is what frightens me," she whispered. "I know of pain and death. I understand the definition of the words. But I do not comprehend it as anything more than mere words to express a thought."

The two immortals sat in silence, having nothing further to say to each other.


	5. Moria? Any relation to Sunnydale?

_Author's Note: I'm making up certain magical mythologies as I go, though some of the terms are real. Sidhe for example has three definitions: faery folk, demi-god, or they are fairy mounds. I found it in a book called "Celtic Myths and Legends" by Charles Squire. I also found out that in the singular form it is sidh and pronounced shee. The males are called fer-sidhe. The females are bean-sidhe. I spell fairy faery because I like the way it looks better. It just seems more otherworldly._

_Author's Thanks:_

_texaswookie: Angel grew up as an aristocrat; it was a normal way of speaking for him when he was human. He would be comfortable with the more formal way of addressing the elves-especially since they are in an environment that is more like what he knew when he was growing up and speaking in that manner. While he might've changed in recent years, he's still a well-bred gentleman. Spike, on the other hand, may be a poet but he's also a rebel. As for the Balrog, he's a creature of fire, he would destroy the slayers-unless his flame was put out first._

_Brutal2003: Don't worry about it. For me, writing Buffy is hard because her reactions are more cannon than anyone else's. But there is a brief appearance of her-and an actual reason for her not being in Middle-Earth. One I like a lot better because it actually makes more sense than the first one I gave._

_Spectrum: Xander isn't mentioned because they believe that all those who were affected by Glory's spell are there. And Willow's not talking much because she's spending all her time either unconscious or taking care of more life threatening matters. I.E.-food for the vampires._

_Mari: An Angel and Arwen pairing actually is a possibility. But Aragorn and Buffy aren't. I think that Aragorn is too much like Angel and I'm not really a Buffy/Angel romance fan. Hope that's all right. (For me, I'm more of an Eowyn/Aragorn fan.)_

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"Oz, you keep talking about adapting to changes. What do you mean?" Faith turned to face him as they paused to allow the dwarves to pass them. Something about his words troubled her.

And she didn't like the feeling of not knowing what was going on.

"Haven't you felt it?" he asked, nodding at their good-natured greetings. "How normal our abnormalities seem?"

Faith shrugged, returning the greetings with a smile. "Not really."

"That might be because you are the slayer. Your strength is a part of you," he mused softly. "Though that doesn't truly explain why Angel and Spike don't. Their state of being isn't really natural."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she irritably asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I know that my transformations are much smoother, much more complete than what I experienced before."

"Dangerously so?" she questioned, suddenly afraid. They had no compatible weapons or drugs here to subdue the wolf. Would she be asked to kill him?

"No," he answered firmly, knowing what was on her mind. "To answer your question about our adapting, the land here is much purer than what we are used to. There is no dilution like at home."

"Dilution?" she relaxed, holding his hand and feeling him squeeze it reassuringly.

He nodded. "Willow would've been better off if we had not come to a place of elves."

"Is that what they are? I thought they were supposed to be smaller? And that they worked for Santa?"

Before he could reply, another voice did. "You're thinking of fairies and sprites-and the stereotypical image of an elf. In the early years, before Christianity changed a lot of things, elves were of human height and of great aid. In fact, one could argue that angels and heavenly messengers came about because of the elves."

"Giles," they greeted, turning to see the watcher above them in Elrond's library.

"What's up?" Faith asked, adding pertly. "Besides you?"

The watcher's tired face lit up with a smile, showing his appreciation of her comment. "I must ask you to join me and Gandalf. There is something I have to tell you."

Oz frowned. "Shouldn't we all hear this?"

"At the moment, what you are about to hear will only affect you."

Exchanging puzzled looks with Oz at this rather mysterious message, Faith then glanced up and nodded her understanding. "We'll be up in a few, G."

"Faith, how many times must I ask you to refrain from calling me that?" he asked, exasperated.

She only laughed as she and Oz made their way into the building. "What's up?"

"Have a seat," Gandalf ordered, "and I shall explain."

Oz sat down. Faith leaned against the arm of his chair, not at all intimidated by the wizard in gray. To her he was no more than a simple conjuror of tricks, except his hat was not a top hat but a pointed one, like a witch's. "Well?"

"Impatient, aren't you?" he asked, though there was no anger in the words.

"I've learned to be patient when there is need. From what my instinct tells me, now is not the time for such hesitancy," she coolly responded.

Gandalf glanced up at the scandalized Giles and nodded approvingly. "This one will do."

"Are you sure?"

The Istari just gave him a speaking look for questioning his decision and the watcher was silenced, knowing he had stepped out of line. He couldn't help it; Faith was one of his family. He considered her a daughter.

Not so with Faith. "Do for what?" she harshly demanded.

"Any task that may lead you into Mordor," he calmly replied.

Oz gasped. That name spoke of terrible things and dark times to him.

Faith, hearing the sound, glanced curiously at the werewolf, then back to the wizard and raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Mordor is a place of great evil," he began.

"Like the Hellmouth?" she questioned.

Surprisingly, instead of the wizard answering, Oz did. "No. The Hellmouth is merely a portal into the realms of Hell. Mordor is Middle-Earth's version of Hell."

"Oh," she dumbly said. After a moment of stupor, she shook herself out of it and focused on the matter before her. "Why me and not Buffy? Other than the fact that I am here and she is not." The words were said as a belittling smile crossed her face. Though more confident about herself than before, she still knew that in the line of preferred slayers, she would always rank at a far second.

Gandalf stared at her, his eyes never wavering from her own. "You have a darkness within that does not fear being known."

"What?" she gasped. Of all things to hear, that wasn't one of them. Her brush with the dark wasn't something she would ever have considered her strength.

Instead of repeating his words, he explained what he meant. "The slayers authority comes from the dark. It is intertwined with that of the demon life force. As long as there are demons, there will be the need for a slayer. But most never walk that dark path. You have and do not fear it. Within you, there is no fear to allow that darkness out. It is that very _lack_ that will allow you to pass through Mordor's gates unmolested."

"Well, glad to be of service," she sarcastically said.

"What of me?" Oz redirected the conversation, recognizing the look on Giles' face.

"You have an unmatched ability to tune into the land. It is _not_ tied into the wolf within you as you thought," he said.

"I see," he replied.

Gandalf smiled. "Indeed, you do. You have a deep insight into your true nature. One I have not seen in many a year."

"Huh?"

Oz looked up at his girlfriend, smiling soothingly. "What he means is that even if I wasn't a wolf, I would pick up on such things."

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally gathered her thoughts into a coherent word. "Why?"

The answer, surprisingly, came from Giles. "He, like me, is a child of the blood."

"At the risk of sounding stupid, what are you talking about?" she demanded.

"Daemons," Oz simply said.

Her eyes narrowed, her slayer's senses going on line immediately. "Demons?"

The head shook. "_Da_emons," he repeated, adding a slight emphasis on the first vowel.

"Faith, we aren't demons. We are servants of the _sidhe_. It is our job to protect and serve them, to keep them from over dosing on magic. The _sidhe_ do not have the physical strength to match their powers, we are supposed to supplement them whenever possible by being their grounding roots."

Comprehension of his meaning became clear to her and she faced Giles. Fury entered her eyes as she stared at him. "How dare you?" she hissed.

He stepped back, startled by the weight of wrath behind that stare.

"Oz I can forgive because he did not know. But you…you _knew_ about this bond. Willow has lain close to death while you have rested on your butt. **_You_** allowed her to nearly kill herself for your own selfish purposes. Whatever they may be. **_You_** may call yourself a daemon, but I believe demon is more appropriate considering your actions."

On her feet before she could even think, she grabbed hold of him. Slamming him against the bookshelves on the wall, her hand closed against his throat. "In my book, that would make you a threat to the human race."

"That is enough."

With those three words, Lord Elrond stopped Faith's actions cold. There was the slightest breath of elven power within his words. Moving away from them, she stood at the window and stared sightlessly out at the vast expanse of elven lands. Behind her, she could hear the sound of Giles' ragged coughing but could not bring herself to care about what she'd done. She clenched her fists, ignoring how easy it had been to cross back into the dark.

"While you have reason to be upset with him, you had no good rationale to do what you did. Anger is never justified, no matter what the cause for it." Gandalf spoke quietly, observing the three occupants in the room carefully. What he saw within each of them confirmed his suspicions.

While not necessary, they now had a part in Middle-Earth's battle against Sauron. And all would do their best to aid them.

"Don't," she turned and glared at him. "Just don't."

"What do you want of us?" Oz spoke into the awkward silence.

"If the time comes, I wish that you would keep Willow from Mordor. As you rightly surmised, it is the purity of this land that has weakened her. Imagine what entering a land of darkness such as Mordor might do to her."

It did not bear contemplation.

"And?" Faith coldly said. Within her, her blood still boiled with resentment against Giles for his careless care of Willow. And she was irate with Gandalf for his utter disregard for what the watcher had done.

The Istari well knew what was in her mind and it grieved him. However there was no time to redress the problem. They could only go forward. "There will be a need to go. You should be the one to journey there."

She nodded. Turning briskly, she strode out of the room and headed for the dwarves. It was in her mind that may be Gloin would be up for a good wrestling match. She'd hold back enough to prevent herself from killing him but she had an excess amount of energy to be burned.

If he was busy, she'd have to find other entertainment to keep herself amused. May be she should do what she mentioned to Strider and take Willow out for a walk. Though her being moved to the lower level had improved the state of her health, there was always room for improvement.

654321

Strider met Boromir outside the dinning hall and stopped. Since the coming of the strangers and their problems, he hadn't spent anytime with any of the delegates and he felt that he should. Especially since his conversation with Elrond reminded him of his duty.

But did he want to start with Boromir of all people? This man above all others made him uncomfortable for he was keeping a dreadful secret from his steward. Well, his future steward when Denethor no longer cared to serve in that capacity.

Whether he did or not, it appeared that Boromir had made the decision for him. He was going to pass him with only a nod in greeting. He cleared his throat, "Lord Boromir?"

Boromir paused, turning back towards the ranger, a confused look in his eyes. "Yes?" He had been aware of the man for sometime, it would've been hard to ignore him; there was a kind of presence about him. But he'd never sought any of them out before.

So, what had changed? A sudden, terrible thought hit him and he fearfully exclaimed. "Is it Willow?"

"What?" he blinked, then hurried to reassure him. "Oh, no. She is fine, the last time I saw her anyway. Faith thought it would do her some good to be outside, so she is out there."

"Then what is it? What business would a ranger have with me?"

Strider felt like a fool for calling him. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. "May I have a few words with you after I speak with Lord Elrond?"

Even more confused now, he stood for a moment, staring at him. Then his upbringing asserted itself and reminded him that he owed the ranger an answer. "That would be acceptable. Would you like to speak over dinner?"

Feeling somewhat cowardly, Strider nodded. Reasoning with himself, he felt the revelation would be better off if given in a public place. Boromir would be less likely to make a scene if they were surrounded by people.

At least, that's what he hoped.

Of course, he could remain silent and pray that no one would reveal it-even at the Council of Elrond when they discussed the fate of the Ring. And what to do about their strange visitors, he really wished they had something else to call them. Saying they were visitors made them seem even more odd and remote than they were.

"May I ask, _Ranger_, what this is all about?"

It was a not so subtle reminder that he had yet to introduce himself. "Strider," he said, and then he answered the question. "Many things but right now, I have to ask, how do you know all these people?"

"That is complicated, Strider, not something I should tell you about without talking to them first. To explain what happened, I would have to tell you their story and I cannot in all good conscience do that without their approval."

"I understand," he nodded, knowing that his voice spoke of his disappointment. But he wouldn't press the issue.

"Strider, my father wishes to see you."

"Thank you, Elladan. I was going to see him myself," he bowed to Boromir. "Until later?"

"Of course," he watched him go, then turned to the dark haired elf who had been watching him with a disinterested air before turning away. "Lord Elladan, have you seen my men?"

His voice halted the near step he had made to leave and he answered coolly. "I believe that they are watching Mistress Faith practice the bow."

Boromir's head shook in amusement. "She is better at the bow than the sword. They find themselves constantly amused by her great prowess."

"She is not in the same league as an elf." Elrohir stiffly commented as he joined them.

"Yet," Boromir countered. "Give her another hour and you will not be able to tell that she is not an elf."

"We shall see."

Deciding that it was a waste of time arguing with Elrohir, he faced Elladan. "Thank you," he bowed and left the two alone.

"Must you encourage the humans to think they have a right to think of themselves as our equals?"

"Must you be so quick to judge them unworthy when it is their shoulders we are relying upon?"

"We are not relying on them for anything. Our time has come and the boats are being prepared."

Elladan shook his head. "Only you would ignore the fact that the Nine and other dark forces have started to attack our borders. Father's authority over this land is failing. If we expect to leave these shores, we must be able to travel in safety."

"You are a romantic fool."

"And you are an obdurate one."

654321

"You wished to see me, Lord Elrond?" he asked, feeling it best to find out what the elven lord wanted before he mentioned the state of the Ring.

Seeing Giles and Gandalf, he nodded in greeting. Though he still wasn't sure he understood what the connection between the Istari and the man was, he had decided to reserve judgment of Giles until after he'd see what the man was capable of.

"I did. The Council meeting will be delayed for a few days."

"May I ask why?"

"The Lady Galadriel has sent word that she wishes to be here. The arrival of Giles and his companions has thrown the balance off of its course. Things that should not have been touched, have been upset," he explained.

"The Lady herself?" Strider exclaimed, shocked. "What would you have me tell everyone?"

Gandalf rose from his chair and began to pace the room. Every step he took spoke of his worry and discontent. "I shall make the necessary announcement at dinner, before the celebrations begin."

"I wish you luck for I fear that the dwarves and the men of Gondor wish to be on their way, this unpleasant business behind them." For a moment, his posture revealed how much he wished it was over-whatever the outcome of the meeting was.

"As do we all," Elrond agreed from his place by the window, he faced them for a moment before returning to the view before him. "But we must exercise all caution under the circumstances. To be precipitate in this situation would be most fatal."

At this point, Giles spoke up. "I do apologize if our arrival has caused any of this, Elrond, especially if its tied into anything Willow has done since her arrival. I know it was wrong to allow her to use magic while here in what is to her an unfamiliar land but we felt it best for all concerned."

The elf lord nodded, understanding. "What has been done cannot be undone. The best we can do is proceed and try to minimize the damage that has been wrought."

"Still," a sharp scream of utter agony and desolation cut him off. Giles bolted out the door, knowing that cry intimately for it permeated every one of his dreams since he'd failed in his duty to protect his loved ones.

_Willow_.

Rounding the corner, Strider, Elrond, and Gandalf at his heels, he entered the semi-crowded area and pushed people aside to get to his protégé. Faith looked up at him, a helpless expression on her normally confident face. The other 'Scoobies' stood behind her, their own faces decorated with conflicting emotions.

Clawing her way free from the blankets, Willow pushed and pulled her way out of the chair that rested slightly in the ground. One of the elves, Giles recognized him as Legolas, reached out to help her when she stumbled. Both were startled by the hiss of pain that escaped her and she flinched away from the touch, a hand closing over the touched arm protectively.

Though the elf distanced himself from her as a precaution, he watched her carefully. Her reaction to his aid disturbed him.

"Xander," she gasped out. "He's here. In painful, bloody, and hungry darkness. Tortured in both body and soul. We've got to get him out."

"Steady on, lass," Gimli soothed. "Do you not think you had best get those wounds of yours tended to?"

The dwarf's words brought everyone's eyes to the trickle of blood running down her arm in a constant river of crimson.

"There's no time for such frivolities!" she exclaimed, moving away from aiding hands. "My best friend is in trouble. We must be off!"

"Slow down, red. No one's suggesting that we don't help, though it goes against everything I stand for to help him."

"Spike," Angel cautioned.

"But do you even know where he is?" Spike finished, half ignoring the warning.

"I told you, in darkness," she snapped.

"That describes many places. Could you be more specific?" Oz quietly and firmly spoke.

Barely regaining control of her raging emotions, Willow spoke through whitening lips. "I saw a great hall within a cavern, shrouded by living darkness." As she spoke on, many recognized the description of the place.

"What you have described is the Great Mines of Moria," Gimli said. "But what you have said of it should not be, though it has dwindled in the years since Balin's death."

"Whatever it once was, it no longer is."

"A great evil has awakened there," Strider murmured. "You should not go."

"Stuff it in your ear, Strider."

"His name is Aragorn," Willow corrected Faith.

"Will, he's Strider. That's how you introduced him to everyone," she maintained.

"I was mistaken about his true name," she flatly explained. "His real name is Aragorn. He is the son of Arathorn, heir of Isildor, and future king of all Middle-Earth. Isn't that right?"

Strider, nee Aragorn, stood stunned and could _feel_ her withdrawal from him. The accusing and suspicious glances of the Gondorian men stung-especially Boromir's but there was nothing he could say to disabuse the notion that he had deceived them all. For what could he say to alleviate their belief?

Faith glared at him. "You have serious name issues, squirrel boy."

"Faith," Giles warned. "Names here have power. To know the true name of something or someone gives you power over them."

"Doesn't matter," Faith stoutly said. "He doesn't have the right to tell us what we can and can't do. If Xander is in Moria, then that's where we should go."

"You do not know what awaits you in that dark place," he started to say, only to be interrupted.

"He's judging us based on his own standards," Willow sadly said. "Just stop it, Aragorn, we aren't **you**. So, you may stay here and cower while the darkness grows but we shall not. It isn't our way. Xander needs us."

Stumbling through the midst, she barely avoided colliding with the tree. If Angel hadn't grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, she would have had a painful upset. With one scathing glare at the assembled company, he led her away. Those who knew him and his temperament were surprised by that look and wondered what was behind it.

Aragorn rubbed his head, frustrated by the whole mess. Before he could speak, Elrond's quiet voice did. "What would you ask of us?"

"Some directions would be nice," Spike drawled. "Playing 'Hide and Seek' with that twit isn't something I enjoy. There's no fun in the chase if you don't get the pay-off."

Elrohir and Elladan correctly interpreted their father's look, walking over to him. Though they did not see it, their father saw something in the rude vampire that made him accept that he was the one to memorize the directions.

Elladan glanced at his brother, then to Spike. "Come to the study with us, Master Spike, and we will show you a path into the Misty Mountains that is rarely used. Then down the pass to where Moria's Eastern Gate is."

As they left the grouping, they could hear Giles ask for the return of Willow's staff. "We shall retrieve that as well."

"Supplies would be good," Oz quietly suggested. "Although, we could do some hunting if necessary."

"No, we shall not let you leave unprepared. I shall ask my people to prepare things for your departure," Elrond said.

"We would appreciate any aid you are willing to give us," Giles thanked him. "Faith, make sure that Willow doesn't leave before we have been provided for."

Nodding abruptly, she and Oz left.

Boromir's head shook. "Mishandled everything from the start, Lord Aragorn. While a little deception is understandable, your continuing the charade when you found out about them shows a lack of respect for who and what they are."

Aragorn knew that the man had a point. Still, to be taken to task about his own behavior irked him. "Where are you going?" he asked, seeing the man turn away.

"To talk to them," he replied calmly. "I do not believe that I can be of further use here and they are my friends. Giles?"

"I'll be right there," he answered. Turning to Gandalf, he brought up the subject they had been discussing for the past few days. "Well? May I be allowed to help assuage the burden placed upon Willow's shoulders?"

The Istari's head shook. His eyes revealed his sorrow for what he had to say. But they must be spoken; otherwise he would be as culpable in Giles' perceived crimes as the _daemon_ himself.

"I cannot release you from your bond without the approval of others in my order and one of them has proven false. But I will give you the freedom to exercise some of your authority. Understand that you are only to do so when necessary, I will be monitoring you. Any frivolities and not only will I revoke that right, I will remove you from your friends. Are we clear?"

Giles nodded, not expecting anything else. "I appreciate this," he murmured and bowed before he followed Boromir.

"What was that all about?' Gloin asked from his position at the far end of the field. "I thought the redheaded creature was ill."

"She has apparently recovered," an elf dryly answered. Though she was also perplexed by this evident recovery.

Truly, something more was at work.

"Lord Elrond?" he ignored the answer and turned to where their host had stood.

The elf was gone, as was the wizard. Frustrated, he turned to Gimli. "Go and find out what's happening."

"Yes, father." The dwarf left, followed by Legolas.

"Well, things should return to normal now."

"Why would you say that?"

He turned to the elf that had addressed him, an expression of surprise on his face. "Now that Mistress Faith is gone, our Prince will stay away from the dwarf and keep company with us."

"Will he?" the other elf murmured. "I'm not so sure of that." She wandered off, not wanting to talk anymore about her revelation. This friendship between the two disturbed her-and would not please the Prince's father, King Thranduil.

"What do you think of all of this?" The dwarf and elf in question walked along, quietly conversing.

Legolas gave the question some thought before replying. "I think our days are in for more chaos than previously thought."

"Why?"

The blonde head shook. "Willow, she is a _sidhe_," he recalled Elrond's words. Guessing the next question, he explained as best he could. "A _sidhe_ is a mortal who is gifted with power by the Valar."

"But if she is touched by the Valar, why is she ill? Should not the Valar protect her?" Gimli asked, puzzled.

"The Valar in her world occupies a much less prominent position. Having a different line of power there, they cannot protect her here. That would be using power that is not his to access. That is the only thing we can think of for why she is different from us," Legolas said. "But I cannot comprehend why she should flinch from our touch. She has not done when touched before."

"Insulted that there is one female your wiles cannot touch?" Gimli asked, teasingly.

Legolas shook his head, though a smile did touch his face. Trust Gimli to try to improve the moment by making it seem as though it was his ego that had been damaged. "That is funny, dwarf. She looked like it really hurt and I feel terrible about afflicting pain to such a gentle soul."

Before Gimli could come up with an answer, they turned the corner and saw the visitors in front of the Nazgul horses. Angel held Willow on her feet as she talked to the horses before them. Well, the dwarf assumed that's what she was doing.

It was the only logical conclusion he could come up with.

Turning from them, she sank against Angel. "They'll take us part of the way. While they are hardy animals, traveling along the paths of the Misty Mountains is risky for them."

"Will, I can't ride."

"Neither can I, Faith. But unless you want to walk over huge amounts of land very quickly, this is the best time to learn." Yawning, she allowed Angel to help her sit on the ground. "I really am starting to hate this more and more."

Leaning over to Oz, the slayer muttered. "I don't like horses and they don't like me. Why couldn't that stupid little blonde slut strand us in a world like ours? You know, one that has cars? Oh, and in door plumbing would be good. And chocolate. Oh, and tampons or pads for that time of the month. How can I forget about that?"

"I thought that you don't have a period seeing as how you're the slayer, Faith," Willow dryly pointed out.

"So? If I did, I'd want something like that to help me out. Oh, and pain killers. Herbs and weeds are nice but when one is in pain, one wants relief fast." She paused, thinking for a moment. "Besides, the weeds here aren't the kind that gives you satisfaction, if you know what I mean."

"Faith!" Angel exclaimed, torn between being scandalized by her words. And laughter at her sheer audacity in mentioning drugs. "Behave."

"Spoilsport," she pouted.

When he was sure they were done, Oz answered her original question. "Have you forgotten who she is?"

"Not likely," she scowled. "How are you holding up, Will?"

"I'm not adjusting as quickly as I'd like," she yawned again. "Hello, Gimli. Legolas. What can we do for you?"

"My father wishes to know what is going on," the dwarf's reply was quiet. Gimli felt disoriented when those vacant eyes turned towards them. It was obvious that she knew where they were.

"We are going to rescue Xander Harris from the Mines of Moria," it was Giles who answered. "After that, we aren't entirely sure."

"But what Willow tells us," Faith teasingly finished. "Little dictator."

"Hey," she objected. "I'm taller than you."

"Since when, oh, great barefooted one?" came the saucy reply.

Lord Elrond walked over and addressed them. "My people preparing some supplies for you. It will require another half hour or so for them to finish. Would you join me in finding more suitable clothes than those that you are currently wearing, Mistress Willow?"

Faith snorted. "The clothes you gave **me** are barely suitable to my activities. Why do you think they'll do Willow any good?"

With a humorless smile, he answered her politely. "I realize that we clothed you wrong before but you should understand that it was because we did not understand who you were and what your needs are. Allow me to correct that error now. She and you will be able to choose from among the clothes of our warriors."

Though she wanted to be on her way and chaffed at every delay, Willow knew that the elf lord was quite right. "We would appreciate that, thank you."

Faith was silent for a moment, thinking about things. When she realized that the clothes being offered were more like what she'd seen the twins and some of the Mirkwood elves wear, she nodded. "At last, _pants_."

The way she said the word brought out a few chuckles.

Even Elrond smiled. "Please, follow me."


	6. Next time? Don't let Faith sing

Hoisting the girl onto her unsteady feet and keeping a supporting arm about her waist, the trio headed into the house. As they passed the library, Elrohir stopped them. "I believe this is yours," he gave her the staff.

"Go on," she murmured to Faith. Swinging it around, she tested it out. Not surprisingly, though it moved like it should, it felt limp and weightless. Resting it against the ground, it held her up, but it did not feel right. "Oh, this is of the bad," she whispered.

"Why?" Elrohir asked, hearing her words.

"You heard that?" she squeaked. _Why am I surprised_? she wondered. _After all I've seen on the Hellmouth, why should this surprise me_?

Not knowing of her blindness, he nodded and waited for her reply. When the redhead didn't say anything, he felt justified in thinking that humans were quite rude. Still, this one, with her magical authority, intrigued him. "Why don't you answer?"

"Why don't you?" she shot back.

Taken aback, he stared at her. "I did."

"No, you didn't."

Now, he was offended. "I assure you that I did."

"Look, oh, rude one," she snapped, one hand on her hip as she glared in his general direction. "I know what I heard and the only thing these ears heard in your '_Oh, I am so superior to the rest of you scum_' tone of voice was your questions."

"Is not a nod an appropriate answer to your race?"

"If I could see it, yes. But as I can't see a thing, snotty one, no." She icily replied and turned around, forcing herself to walk away as steadily as possible.

Elrohir's eyes widened. _Couldn't see? What did that mean? Did his father know? Why had no one said anything to them about her condition_? Reaching out a hand to stop her, it had barely touched her when he felt rather than saw the attack. With a swift motion, his knees buckled under his weight and he went down.

Pressing the end into his throat, she hissed. "Don't touch me. It causes me a lot of pain and I am sick of feeling pain."

Elladan felt a pain and turned away from where he had been testing Spike about the directions he'd given and towards the door. Moving to where he last saw his brother, he stopped, a grin forming on his face at the sight that meet his eyes. "Is there a problem?"

Before an answer came, Spike pushed him aside and caught Will's slipping form. "What happened?" he asked. All the while thinking that if she kept fainting, they were never going to be able to accomplish anything.

Elrohir got up, brushing himself off. "I did not know of her inability to use her sight and offended her. When I touched to arm to apologize, she knocked me down and informed me that my touch caused her pain."

The commotion had attracted Faith and Elrond's attention and they returned. Upon hearing these words, he faced the slayer. "Is this possible?"

"You think **_I_** know?" she scoffed. "But I'm going to go out on a limb and say, yes. The purity of the land sickens her, so why not?"

"Mistress Faith, I understand that you are upset with what has happened to your friend because of Mister Giles' neglect but there is no need to take it out in such a rude manner."

"This is my normal manner," she retorted. "You don't like it, don't have to deal with it."

Deciding it best to ignore her, Elrond turned to Willow. "This makes no sense. We tended to her before and did not have this problem. What is the difference?"

Oz quietly spoke from the doorway, having thought it best to join them. "Once she was moved downstairs, her body became a sieve for healing powers. Her senses are more attuned to everything around here. While in the tower, she was adrift in a sea of inertia and your touch did her no harm. The powers within her that are protecting her were shunted to another area. They were trying to keep her alive. In other words, she did not feel your touch."

They stared at him, shocked.

Oz sighed. "Faith, we're ready to go if Spike here has the directions."

"I do," Spike nodded, heading for the door.

"Lord Elrond, whatever clothes Faith has chosen, just put in another outfit for Willow. As for boots, they wear the same size." Nodding at them, he joined the departing party.

Faith stalked off, glancing back at Elrond. "Are you coming?" she snapped.

Spare me any more temperamental visitors, he thought with a sigh. "Elrohir. Elladan, please make sure that the provisions are taken to Mister Giles. Also, check to see that this departure goes unnoticed by all, save a few of the most trusted elves **_and_** dwarves. Do not forget them." This was said with a pointed look at Elrohir, knowing full well how his son felt about the dwarves.

"What of the men of Gondor?" Elrohir asked. "Should they not also know of this?"

"Other than Lord Boromir, I do not believe that any would care for their fate."

"I'm waiting," Faith called out, looking at him with her hands on her hips.

"Patience is a virtue and a necessity on this journey," he commented as he walked towards her. Leading her to the back room, he felt conscious of the silence that rested heavily between them but did nothing to ease it.

Gathering up the desired items-and changing her outfit complete with sturdy boots, Faith made her way to the others. Walking to the clearing, she noted Boromir and Sam talking earnestly to Willow. Whatever they were talking about must've been bad because both humans looked torn.

"What's up?" she asked, handing the boots to Willow.

Accepting them, she pulled them on. "Sam's bidding me a good-bye."

"What? He doesn't want to come along? I'm shocked at you, Mister Samwise Gamgee."

"I am needed here," he simply replied.

"As for Boromir, he's trying to convince me that he should be allowed to join us. For he fears the power the One Ring will exert over him," she finished.

"Why not let him come?"

The vacant look grew slightly cloudy, as if a milky film had been drawn over it. "Because he has a valuable work to do here. Work that only **_he_** can do."

"But what?" he asked, almost desperately.

Giles cleared his throat, sparing her from coming up with an answer to his uncomfortable question. "In a few minutes, we shall be underway. Does everyone have a partner? If not, better choose one now."

Angel joined them, he touched her shoulder. "Willow? Nice boots. But don't you think you should change out of the night dress?"

"Thanks," she smiled. "The dress is fine."

"If you say so." Though it didn't seem practical, it wasn't his choice and he would let her decide later. "Spike is going to be leading us and he's more comfortable with horses, why don't you pair up with him?"

"Where will you be?" Faith asked while Willow nodded.

"I'll be bringing up the rear of the line with Oz."

Faith grimaced. "Leaving me with Giles."

"Will that be a problem?"

"Not for me," she replied coolly. "You?"

"No. Scared?"

Faith scoffed. "Of Moria and its secrets? Never."

"Then you are being most unwise," Elrond softly said. "But that is your choice. Are you sure that you have the directions and do not need a map to guide your steps?"

Clearing his throat, Spike answered the question.

"_To the North and towards the forest of Mirkwood  
the path will lead straight to a gap.  
Turn South and follow the Misty Mountains' paths,  
where mist and fog thin and reveal a shimmer.  
Mountains glimmer of a silver vein and golden tints,  
within this cove lies the path to Moria's Mines."_

Elrond glanced at Elladan, who looked as perplexed as he felt. The directions were correct, but where had the vampire come up with such a rhyme? It had no real beat or measure, yet it was pleasing to the ear. "I shall trust you to lead them well, Master Spike."

"For the last time, it is," he stopped, sighing. "Forget it, I don't know why I bother. Ready to go, Red?"

Hugging Sam tightly, she whispered her thanks. Turning to Boromir, her lips quirked into a grin. "Boro, we'll see each other again. Of that, I have no doubt. Well, you'll see us, while I shall only feel you." Embracing him, she felt tears press against her closed eyelids and swallowed, forcing them back. "Trust Aragorn. Tell him about us."

"I hate it when you do that," he muttered before releasing her and helping her onto her horse. With great care, he attached the staff to the saddle. "You will be careful, right?"

"You know me," she replied.

"Unfortunately I know you all to well," he teased, smiling slightly at her mock gasp of outrage. Turning to Faith, he shook her hand. "Thank you for teaching my men a few lessons in humility."

"Hey, I wasn't the only one doing some teaching," she pulled him towards her and gave him a hug. "Thanks for helping me."

"Here," he handed her a small knife. "You may need it."

After bidding everyone a farewell, he moved back and found Aragorn, his future king, beside him. Glancing up at him, he found only compassion and sympathy in his gray eyes. There was also a bit of sorrow there, as though he, too, was mourning the loss of good friends.

"Should we not have a song to commemorate the occasion?" Gloin asked, noticing, with glee, the looks of sheer terror on the faces of every single visitor-save Faith's. Her own face had a look of hilarity that promised a song memorable for its own inventiveness.

"Sure, I have a good one."

"Faith," Oz started, "you wouldn't."

"O course, I would, sweetie," she cheekily grinned and inhaled and sang.

_"Happy Birthday to you,  
Lord Elrond lives in a zoo.  
The Elves all look like monkeys,  
Dwarves smell like them too."_

"Sing that again and I will take your little head off."

"Really? That's not much of a threat, Gloin."

"Try me and you will quickly find that it is no threat." He handled the ax lovingly, swinging it back and forth in ready hands.

"Okay," she smirked. "Since you've all been such a positive audience, here's an encore."

"You would not," someone asked.

"You don't know me at **_all_** if you think that's true," she quipped, smiling evilly.

_"Happy Birthday to you,  
Strider's coat is a zoo.  
He acts like he's a monkey.  
He smells like one too."_

"What?" the ranger exclaimed, ears burning with the sound of dwarfish laughter.

"I call them like I see them," she answered, grinning at Boromir's laughter. After all the laughing that had been done at his expense, he deserved to laugh at someone else's expense.

But not her own, of course.

"I do not envy you this task," Gandalf murmured to Giles. "They are all quite a handful."

"I'm used to it," he shrugged. "And they aren't as bad as they seem. Once they are on their way, focusing on their goal, the level of their jocularity will decrease. It'll be a shame to lose this, they really need it."

"Faith is very angry with you," he commented.

"She's angry with the situation. If there's one thing I know about her, she does not like to lose control over her life. Here in this world, she is out of her depths and is constantly thrown for a loop by all she learns. And when she's scared, she has a tendency to lash out. As does Spike," he added.

"Why has he not?"

"Angel. They may hate each other but he recognizes his position under Angel. It isn't an ideal solution, but it works." He fell silent, watching his small family with a troubled look.

"I do not mean to be rude but when we speak of songs to commemorate a journey into darkness, we do not mean it flippantly," Elladan said.

"Songs do not need to be full of doom and gloom to mark a parting," Spike drawled.

"But in this situation, do you not think that a solemn song would be best?" he asked. "For it would serve as a reminder of your mission."

"Or it may discourage the humans," he paused, adding, "which isn't always a bad thing when dealing with the Scoobies."

"Spike!" Willow gasped. "That's mean."

"Demon, pet. I don't have to be nice."

Elladan shook his head, relieved that the redhead seemed to be doing well. He walked over to Oz and handed him something. "Elrohir and I believe that while this has no practical use for you, we wish that you would accept it as a token of our friendship."

The werewolf gravely nodded as his fingers ran lovingly over the instrument. It was almost like a guitar, only more elegant than any he'd played before. Reverently, he stroked the strings made of elf hair. The sweet, clear, and haunting sounds echoed through the forest with its light melody.

Entranced, all things seemed to stop their movements to listen.

Though he struggled against it, Spike found himself speaking a piece of nonsense he'd written while under the influence of a joy spell.

_"Standing at the edge of the darkness,  
with both friend and foe in sight,  
We who stand to face the onslaught  
look to each other for strength.  
Though night wages a fierce battle  
against the coming of day,  
Hope never dies in the valiant hearts  
who are holding up the light.  
When all luminescence is darkened  
And hearts quake with fear,  
Often it will be one candle, held aloft  
that will lead the way out."_

A pristine stillness settled upon them as the notes of poem and song died away. Unwilling, it seemed, were the hearts of the hearers to breathe for fear of breaking the spell.

Nevertheless, the journey could not be delayed further and Faith cleared her throat. "We should be off."

Spike lead the way, thankful that he could no longer blush. Though it was a good piece of poetry, what he had recited embarrassed him. Turning towards the North, he resolved to be more careful with himself. He hated what he'd just said because it seemed too much like the bleeding heart that was Angel.

The journey was quiet, too quiet for Spike's comfort. Whenever things went well, he knew to expect a major upset in the future. And there was an odd feeling he couldn't place.

Or shake.

Pulling Oz to the side when they'd made camp, he asked his opinion.

"We're being observed," he agreed with Spike's assessment that something was going on.

"By?" he snapped. The calm pronouncement of the wolf's irked him, if only because nothing else was forthcoming.

"I'm not sure. Right now, it is no true threat. It seems more curious than anything else."

"Curious?" he skeptically repeated.

"It is all I'm sensing," he confirmed, unmoved by the aggrieved tone in Spike's voice. He was used to this behavior and didn't allow it to get to him.

Rolling his eyes, he snarled. "Peachy. We're in an unknown land with an unstable witch, a temperamental slayer, a poofy vampire, a neutered vampire, and a recalcitrant watcher, who can't give us the full extent of what he knows. And a werewolf who knows more than just about anyone here, yet does not say more than a few words of wisdom."

Oz nodded. "That about sums it up."

"Soup's on!" Faith hollered.

Spike's face remained pensive as he peered over his shoulder into the darkness. "I'll join you in a few."

Oz studied him, holding him in place with his gaze. "Be careful," he warned finally. "There are dangers here that aren't demonic. Or forced to do the bidding of another."

He nodded, melting into the shadows.

**654321**

Buffy slammed Lindsey against the wall, one hand at his throat, the other on his demon hand. "Where are they?"

The ex-lawyer confusedly stared at her, his brain processing her words sluggishly. Her hand tightened its grip on his throat imperceptibly. "Who?" he forced the word out through his clogged esophagus.

"Don't play innocent with me, lawyer boy. It doesn't work on me when I know what you've done at that demon law firm. Now, let's try this again, shall we?" She pulled back and slammed him against the wall to emphasize her every word. "**_WHERE ARE THEY_**?"

Tears of pain from the force of the blows and frustrated rage that he couldn't break free escaped his eyes. Somehow he managed to gasp out. "What are you talking about?"

"That blonde slut you represented did something to my friends and I want to know what."

_**Slam**_

"**_I DON'T KNOW_**!" he shouted, wishing he did. Wishing that the slayer wasn't so preternaturally strong that she could keep him prisoner in his own house. "I'm willing to help you find out though."

Staring into his eyes the same way a snake does to its prey, she finally released him. "24 hours, MacDonald. 24 hours."

"Right," he muttered, watching her leave. Rubbing his throat, the lawyer went to the phone and dialed a number. "You open?"

"_Not at the moment, why?_"

"I have a problem only you can help with."

"_I can see you anytime before 10. After that, I'm booked._"

"Thanks, Lorne."

**654321**

Rivendell.

Lady Galadriel, with Celeborn at her side, greeted Elrond with a solemn nod.

"Are you well, Lady?" Aragorn asked, puzzled by her appearance.

"I am well," she spoke slowly, solemnly. "Why do you ask?"

"There is something about you that is different. Diminished somehow," he hesitantly explained himself.

Her kind smile warmed him and he relaxed. "You see truly, _Elessar_. This is not my own realm. Therefore, I do not appear as I truly am. I do not desire to fight with Elrond for supremacy, for this is his realm."

As Queen of the Elves and greatest of them all, they naturally deferred to her. But she respected each of the ruling elves and did not hold herself above them. Nor did she expect them to relinquish control to her.

Moving to the center seat of the triumvirate set slightly off from the circle where the rest of the council would sit, she waited in quiet contemplation until the others had arrived. Her husband and Elrond spoke with Aragorn in soft voices, careful to not disturb her thoughts.

Starring out at the assembled once they were seated, it did not escape her study that there were some vacancies. Vacancies that disturbed her for she did not know what they meant or what changes to the fate of Middle-Earth would be wrought. "The Rohirrim are not here."

"Saruman the White has betrayed us and joined with the forces of Sauron. Through foul craft, he has sickened the king and prevented him from learning of this meeting. His son also remains unaware of the changes that exist outside their kingdom," Gandalf explained.

"That is most unfortunate, for they have a hand in the fate of this world." Celeborn acknowledged his comment, though his wife carried on as though nothing had been said.

"Nor are the strangers that we have heard so much of." And though she had continued to speak, all knew she had heard the words and accepted the gravity of them. " I had hoped to meet them, for I have much to discuss with the young _sidhe_, Willow."

"They were called away to rescue a friend," Elrond explained.

"Good riddance to them," someone on the Gondorian side of the chamber muttered.

Other than a slight flicker, there was no indication that she had heard the words. "I wish to hear about them before we discuss the fate of the One Ring. Lord Boromir, I hear that you have had the most experience with them. Please, share with us the story of your friends."

Knowing that all there wanted to hear about them-even his own people who did not really care for them-the Gondorian stepped into the circle's center. The gaze of Lady Galadriel filled him with great discomfort, for he felt as though she stripped him completely bare to see what he truly was. What motivated his actions and decisions.

And found him wanting.

Shaking it off, he cleared his throat and began to speak. "As many here are aware, I have more than a slight acquaintance with the strangers. That term leaves me feeling quite cold, for they are not strangers nor visitors to me, they are a part of my family. I shall call them what I became accustomed to thinking was their unofficial name, the Scoobies."

"Scoobies? What kind of word is that?"

"It is a word coined by Xander," he replied cheerfully. More than willing to alleviate any confusion caused by them because of their rather…colorful colloquialisms, even if he did not comprehend them himself. "From what I was able to surmise, it has to do with a show that tells the story of a group of meddling teen-agers who solve mysteries with the help of their talking Great Dane, that is a breed of dog in their world. This dog's name is Scooby-Doo."

"Teen-agers? A talking dog?"

"I never said it made sense," he shrugged.

Aragorn shook his head. "Nothing to do with them makes any sense."

"To us," Boromir contradicted him. "I imagine that to them, we do not make sense."

"Continue," Celeborn commanded, noting that Aragorn had raised his hands in some kind of gesture, which the man of Gondor seemed to understand and acknowledge. He glanced at Elrond, desiring an explanation.

"It means to surrender," he whispered.

"I see," Celeborn murmured, slightly disturbed by the implications of the gesture.

Once he was sure that they were listening to him, he continued. "A few months ago, while on patrol, I slipped into a portal and landed in the midst of a furious battle. I had no weapon with me but I was determined to help the blonde girl out. Rising, I assessed the situation and realized, to my amazement, that she did not need any help. With a few confident moves, she defeated the foes and jogged over to me. What I must have looked like, I cannot imagine. I felt lucky that she did not find me to be an enemy. Holding out her hand, she introduced herself as Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer and that she had been expecting me sooner."

"The one we have been hearing so much about?" Gloin asked slyly.

"That is the one," he confirmed warily.

"And she is going to kill you?"

Ducking his head, he waited for the chuckles to die away. "That is what I have been told."

"She has strength like Mistress Faith?" An elf asked and when he nodded, he shook his head. "You are far braver than I for staying around."

Galadriel cleared her throat and the talk stilled. "How did she know to expect you?"

"Amy Madison, a seer witch, told her where to find me." Pausing, he waited to see if there would be any questions. He resumed his tale when there was none. "I introduced myself with difficulty because, while our language is similar, it is not the same. Seeing no other choice, I followed her to their base of operations. Upon entering, Willow, Amy, and Giles cast a spell on all of us so that we might comprehend each other easily. It is based on our common tongue, rather than their own."

"That would explain why we could understand them and use words that we are not familiar with," Aragorn said. "But if we did not have their equivalent here, why were we able to use the words?"

"I am not altogether sure of the reason behind it," he responded to the question. "There might have been some time in our history where we knew the words and used them."

"What word do you find troubling, Aragorn?"

Turning to Galadriel, he answered slowly. "There were a few, one was vampire."

She gasped slightly, but made no move. Celeborn was not so restrained. "Vampires? Here?" Feeling her hand touch his arm, he settled back into the chair. But he was ill at ease. "We will discuss this later. Continue your story, Lord Boromir."

Helplessly, he opened let them speak. "It would be best if I knew what you wished to know."

"You spoke of a portal, what exactly does that mean?"

"Did you fight these demons yourself?"

"This Glorificus we have heard so much about, have you ever met her?"

"That is one that interests me," Celeborn said. Galadriel nodded in agreement, but she did not say anything.

"What caused Mistress Willow's blindness?"

"How is that any business of his, Mister Frodo?" Sam whispered.

Frodo leaned over, not troubled by the question. "I want to know that myself, Sam."

The gardener was quiet for a moment, then he replied. "As do I. But that is a question for her to answer, do you not think that is so?"

"I suppose you have a point, Sam. But I do not think she is going to speak of it."

"You never know," they turned their attention back to the flying questions around them.

"Yes, the redhead. Is she dangerous?"

"Her? That little thing is harmless compared to the slayer. Will that one kill us?"

"Faith?" Gloin scoffed. His voice was really the only one in the cacophony that could be easily identified. "I would be more fearful of the vampires. Even we dwarves know of the dangers they present."

"Vampires? Hah! Should we not worry more over the werewolf?"

"Werewolves?" Again, only Galadriel's hand on his own stopped him from pursing that line of thought.

"No. The danger is really in the redhead and the exiled student, Giles. What of the powers they possess that are not like ours?"

"Why did you never speak of these things?"

"How did you get back?"

The questions flew at him from all directions and he stumbled back, letting them wash over him in waves. Blinking in confusion at the vehemence behind of some and the genuine curiosity of others, he remained silent. Hearing the question about Willow's blindness, he winced at the callousness in the voice of the one asking it.

"**ENOUGH**!" Gandalf roared and it seemed that the light in the chamber room dimmed for a moment. "It does no good to overwhelm him with our questions."

"Thank you, Mithrandir," he murmured. "From what we were able to determine, my coming was caused by the same group of people who rendered Spike biteless."

"How did they accomplish this evil deed?" Galdor of the Havens asked. "For I have never heard of such a thing."

"Through science," Aragorn flatly said, having had the story from Spike's own lips. "He told me of how they had captured him and others like him. He, unlike the others, escaped."

"How terrible," the elf murmured.

"Continue with your tale," Elrond invited after a moment of silence.

He nodded, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. "This organization caused a shift to occur in the temporal stream, the time line. Though we stopped them, they refused to explain to us what their purpose was. They remained silent when asked why they were experimenting with demon life forms and the power of the Hellmouth. The Hellmouth is a portal into Hell, a dark realm much like Mordor. Only worse. The Scoobies have been trying to keep it closed, the way we have been hoping that the Black Gates never open."

He stopped, both to gather his breath and to think of how to answer the other questions asked of him. "No. I never met up with Glorificus, though I did have some dealings with those who came before her. Her actual arrival came after I left. Willow's blindness is something she should tell you, not me. My return was secured through the combined power of Giles, Willow, and Amy. Would Faith ever kill you? No, the slayers save lives. It is their sacred calling. To kill humans is to go against their own selves and would drive them mad."

"If it makes them crazy, why would Buffy threaten to kill you?" Legolas posed the question that had been in the minds of many, though few dared to ask it.

"It is their idea of a joke," he explained, chuckling a little to himself.

"A very little one," Beregond firmly stated.

"Their sense of humor is different from our own and since Buffy has already died, she has no problem with death," he said. His tone of voice neither confirmed his agreement with the pronouncement or his arguing against it.

"She died?" Galdor asked.

"Yes, Faith told us that," Pippin spoke up from his position by Merry.

"How?"

"She drowned. Actually, she was killed by a Master Vampire they fought," Boromir answered for the startled hobbit. He could tell the young one hadn't been expecting his comment to be heard and the attention turned to him. "So, the Scoobies try their best to keep a lid on the Hellmouth."

"They trust those kids with such an important task?" Beregond exclaimed. "The fools."

Boromir silenced the man with a look. "The inhabitants of their world are mostly ignorant of the truth, that demons do exist. That magic is real. Of the war that is constantly waged by the slayer to prevent the forces of darkness from succeeding."

"How is such a thing possible?" Galadriel asked. "For the darkness you have described surely could not be covered up so easily."

"One would think such deception impossible but there is an organization, known as the Watcher's Council who has guarded the identity of the slayer and kept much of the world in ignorance. Originally, the Slayer was known only to the council, even her parents were kept in the dark."

"Her?" Bilbo asked. It was the first thing he had said since the conversation began.

"Yes. The slayer is always a woman. I do not know why that is so for I never asked. A warrior is a warrior," he bluntly stated. "The slayer usually stands alone against evil's forces. Her watcher only trains her in her duty, nothing more. Buffy is different. Her friends found out the truth and decided not to discount it. Together, they have formed an unshakable alliance and fought off many forces of great evil."

"All very interesting, but what has this to do with us?" Targon inquired. "Their world has nothing to do with our own."

For a moment, the various dissenting and assenting voices were allowed voice.

Galadriel silenced them easily with the words she spoke as she stood up. "Ordinarily that would be true but they have altered the balance of power by bringing their alien powers to our world. If Sauron or Saruman were to get their hands on them, who knows what would result of the use of their powers in our battle."


	7. And Now, For a Little Story

_Author's Note and Thanks:This is mostly LoTR stuff that needs addressing but there is some BtVS/AtS stuff. The names I use for the people in the council are real names from the book, though some do not actually show up in the council._

_texaswookie: Yup, Buffy's stuck at home and really mad about the whole situation. Hence, she might be more than slightly OOC. She will most likely stay that way. I have trouble writing a quippy Buffy. Poor Xander is stuck in the Mines of Moria. And, yeah, Faith is the only one (I think) who has the confidence to pull off such a stunt._

_Brutal2003: Nice to know that the poems weren't bad. I am not a poet. Yup, B's miffed at home and Xander is being hurt._

654321

"What did you find out?" Giles asked, glancing up when someone passed him.

Spike sat down, slightly disgusted with himself. "Nothing. Whatever it was, escaped my grasp."

The fire glowed dimly between them. Noticing the look the vampire gave it, the watcher indicated that he look up into the sky. "We figured that we would be safe enough with the full moon over our heads."

"How is Willow?"

"Better," Oz answered from his position and Spike glanced his way, not really noting him.

"Really?" he skeptically asked.

"Yes," Giles replied with a tiny frown. "If you don't believe us, take a look at her. She's over there, with Faith."

Glancing over to the left, he noticed that the slayer and the witch were practicing a few moves with her staff. Oz was sitting with them, but was out of the way. From his position, he could see her face clearly.

It had filled out some and there was a good color to her face. Her figure also appeared much fuller, not so wasted. That, he knew, was a good sign. "All right, how are we going to prevent this from happening again?"

"I plan to teach her to use her magic," Giles said. "And how to root herself in more than just a bit of earth. Part of the problem is that she didn't ground herself like she should have. What she did was dig in and out, not in and deep."

"What?" he asked.

"Her foundation was to broad and was not deep enough for what she needed to do," he explained. "Plus, she didn't return to the earth that which she borrowed. The conduit must travel both ways in order to be effective."

"Give and take," Angel commented from the shadows. "Much like when a vampire feeds off his prey. Unless there is some plan to sire a child, there is no exchange made."

"While I am not comfortable with the analogy, that is correct," the watcher agreed. "All right, time for you two to settle down. We have to get an early start if we want to cover more ground before releasing the horses."

"I'll take first watch," Faith volunteered.

Giles nodded, "fine. Who wants the next shift? And no, Willow, you may not volunteer."

The redhead's mouth closed, though there was a mutinous expression on her face.

"I'll take it," Angel said. "Spike will be next."

"And I don't have a say in this?" he asked.

"No."

He glowered but didn't argue. There would be time for that later. For now, he could handle Angel's lording over him.

"Then I shall handle the last shift," Giles said. "Oz?"

The werewolf had been listening to them, his posture had been relaxed. Now, though, he was sitting up straight. His eyes stared off into the distance, focused on something that made him twitch.

"We are being watched," he replied.

"By the same watcher from earlier?"

"No," he said. "There are more of them."

"How many?" Faith asked, getting out her knife subtly.

A sharp, shrieking whinny cried out into the silence. The slayer and the vampires were instantly on their feet, heading to the sound. Oz followed more slowly, uttering soothing sounds that the horses responded to.

Giles went to Willow and rested his hands on her shoulders. Lowering his face, he whispered into her ear. "Do nothing. It is not time."

"Giles," she protested. "There's trouble."

"That they can handle. You must help Oz with the horses," he soothed. "I shall protect them. Trust me."

Giving him a sharp, confused look, Willow rose and joined Oz. "Why would he say that?"

"Say what?"

"To trust him. Doesn't he know that I do?"

Oz was silent, stroking the horse in front of him. "I'm sure he does. He's just worried."

654321

The statement brought a new note of sobriety to the meeting. They had never considered this. Boromir took that to mean that his part in this had ended, save that he still had a message to bear to them of the dream that sent him to seek the elven lord's counsel in the first place.

"What are we to do?" Legolas asked finally when no one else would.

Elrond looked at her as she resumed her seat. Standing up, he answered, his voice even, though there was a slight tremble in it. "That is what we are here to decide, that, and the fate of the One Ring. Who does not know the story of Sauron's Ring?"

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the council as none wanted to admit to ignorance. Or even partial ignorance of this, perhaps the most important part of their history since the first argument between elf and dwarf.

Fortunately, the hobbits felt no such fear. Merry spoke for them all, though they were aware that Frodo had a partial knowledge from Gandalf. "Well, I would like to know why we were chased by the Black Riders because of this Ring of Frodo's. I mean, sure it does that neat invisibility trick. But it is just a Ring, right?"

"Bless you, Merriadoc Brandybuck for your forthrightness," Gandalf praised. "Would that others had half your confidence that they felt no shame in admitting their ignorance. No, I am afraid that it is not just a Ring."

"So, what is it then?" Pippin asked.

"We believe through the research that Gandalf has done that this is the One Ring that came into Isildur's hand when he defeated Sauron in the last battle when elves and men united against the forces of Mordor, that is why the Riders chased after you."

"Who are the riders?" Merry asked.

"They were once mighty kings of men. Thousands of years ago, Sauron walked among us and convinced us that he was trying to bring peace and beauty to our world. Thus, at his suggestion, the Rings of Power were forged. The Rings were carefully crafted and designed with each race in mind. Simple and elegant for the elves, the dwarves were given rings that were blunt and beautiful, while the ones given to the race of men appealed to their sense of ceremony and power.

"What we did not know was that there was another Ring being made, an insidious Ring. In the war that raged, Sauron knew no equal once that Ring was on his hand. He decimated our forces, until he made a fatal error. When he went to slay Isildur, he exposed his Ring to him. Taking up his father's broken blade, he smote him and the Ring was lost. Losing the Ring caused Sauron to lose the war for he poured much of himself into it. Isildur took It to be his own heirloom," Elrond turned to Gandalf, unsure of what happened next.

"Doing so set in motion events that he was not aware of. The Ring knew that It was not with Its Master and immediately set about righting that wrong. But It was lost in the river and forgotten, so It passed into legend. No one thought much of It, not even the wise did for we thought It beyond retrieval. Then, a shadow grew in the east and things started to reveal the return of Sauron."

At this point, Elrond interrupted him, though not without regret. "I believe now would be the time for Bilbo to tell the story of how it came into his hands."

Bilbo looked up, smiling. This was just the sort of thing he loved and he stood up, confidently walking to the center of the chamber.

Before he could start his account, Gandalf cleared his throat meaningfully. "Just tell the story plainly, Bilbo. You may embellish it as you wish when you write it down. But for the purpose of this meeting, you will be brief."

"Oh, very well. Your advice has never lead me astray, though I can't imagine why you would object to a little good humor being added to this meeting. It more than needs it," he grumbled but recovered his good humor quickly enough. Gandalf had his reasons and he knew that it would be best to listen to him. Thus the tale of the riddles in the dark with the creature called Gollum was told with great enthusiasm, but none of the usual adornments.

"So, from your hands It passed on to your heir, Frodo. Tell us your account of coming here," Elrond invited. But it was a tenderly spoken request for he knew of this hobbit's shyness and discomfort at the people who would be focused on him.

With less enthusiasm than Bilbo, the young hobbit rose and told his tale. His eyes never left his uncle's. He found in those loving eyes something that gave him the confidence and strength to speak.

"Not bad," Bilbo complimented him when he sat back down. "Though it would have been better without all the interruptions. For now, I am content with what you have said. But there is a mystery in your tale that I wish to know the answer to. What delayed you from your appointed meeting with Frodo, Gandalf?"

"Yes, I would like to know that as well. Why did you not meet us?"

Bowing his head for a moment as remembered pain swept over him, Gandalf's eyes met each of theirs before he spoke. "I sought the knowledge to find out if this heirloom of yours, this innocent Ring was in truth the One Ring of Sauron. Many days did I spend searching the Great Libraries of Gondor, my apologies to your father for the mess I left behind."

Boromir waved that off, knowing his father would take offense to anything that Mithrandir had done. Lately his father had been taking offense at the things that he had done, for he could not understand the change that had come over his son. He had seen what his father's displeasure had done to his brother, Faramir.

He had always hated how it had made Faramir feel. Like him, his brother wanted the love and approbation of their father and had been denied it for he was gentle, something their father did not like. But he hadn't really realized what it was like until recently. Denethor's disappointment stung Boromir deeply for he had never felt it directed at him before.

Yet, he could not change what he had become. He knew too much of the true nature of magical things.

"When I read the account of how the Ring had come into his hands, I worried, especially since there was a prominent reference to how precious It was to him. I immediately left to see you, Frodo. My concern over your safety being greater than the thought that I should seek counsel from Saruman the Wise. I feared that I would be to late for I had seen the fires of Barad-dur burning brightly in the distant horizon over Mordor.

"I went and sought the counsel of Saruman for he has studied the history of the rings and asked what we should do about the One Ring that you have. He betrayed me and kept me captive in the Dark Tower of Isengard. If not for the great eagle, Gwaihir, I would still be a prisoner atop the tower. But I was able to ascertain from that meeting with Saruman and from talking with Gollum in the woods of Mirkwood that the Ring that resided until recently in Bag End is the One Ring of Sauron. If he were to get It back, I do not know how we would be able to succeed against him."

"There is much truth in what you say for there is nothing we could do," Galadriel spoke solemnly. "Sauron has the Nine at his side. The Seven Rings of the Dwarves are lost or reclaimed by him. He would have the power of the Three Elven Rings to aid him. Though he has not touched them, he would be able to find them and bend the wearers to his will by strength alone. We would all be helpless to resist him, even if the Rings were destroyed."

"And if the One Ring is destroyed?"

"Sauron would be destroyed."

"And the power of the Elven Rings?"

"The three rings of the elves would diminish," Elrond informed them gravely. "It is a necessary risk that we must all accept if we are to save Middle-Earth."

The elves exchanged glances and were silent for a time. Of all there, with the exception of the Gray Wizard and Aragorn, only they knew what that meant. The realms that they dwelled in would weaken and become less than what they were. The truth of who they were and what they had done would fade into legend.

It would mean the true end of the time of the elves. "It is an acceptable risk."

"And Gollum?" Galdor asked. "What of his fate?"

"Escaped," Legolas flatly informed him. "We felt pity for the creature and he was able to gain aid from others."

"Which is more than you showed me," Gloin growled.

"Oh, for…" the rest of Elrond's words were stilled as he closed his mouth. This was not the time to give into a base impulse to use crude language. "Gloin, if you are going to air old grievances, this whole counsel might as well be called off.

"That is not good, is it, Gandalf?"

"No, Frodo," he shook his head. "I fear that if we were to air old grievances, Sauron would not need to get his Ring in order to win. The elves and dwarves hold many grudges against each other."

"So, why do they not just stop?"

"Because, Frodo, they have to much fun hating each other," Bilbo said.

"Not quite," Gandalf corrected. "But close enough to the truth that it does not matter."

"I guess that is true for they seem to spend much time thinking about it," he grinned along with the fellow hobbits. Then his face became serious and he faced Gandalf, re-phrasing the question. "But what I really meant was Gollum's escape. How does that affect our plans for the Ring."

"Oh, that," Gandalf exclaimed, as though surprised. "Gollum wants it back and will do anything to retrieve it. It has a rather large affect on our plans, for he murdered his friend to get."

"Are you quiet finished?" Gloin asked, though part of him wanted to hear what possible threat this creature could be to them.

The trio looked at each, gave it some serious thought, and then nodded that their discussion could carry on.

Gloin looked at them for a moment, as though he was trying to decide if they were being honest with him, before shaking his head. Bilbo and Gandalf were too inscrutable to tell, while young Frodo followed their lead easily. It was vastly irritating.

"Continue with your tale of this creature Gollum. I shall not interrupt you again, Prince Legolas, Thranduil's son," he bowed slightly.

He nodded accepting the apology offered, though it wasn't much of one. The cold look in his eyes remained, even if it softened a bit. "There is not much left to tell. We tried to follow him but he is a slippery devil and escaped our net. I fear that in our pity and kindness, we allowed him more freedom than we should have. Somehow, whether through his design or the enemies, he escaped while we who had been guarding him were attacked by orcs."

"Should no one be sent to find him?" Beregond asked. "For it sounds as though this creature is to dangerous to be allowed to roam free."

Gandalf sighed, shaking his head. "If you would listen to my counsel, I would say that though dangerous, we should leave him be. Gollum has some part to play in this yet, of that I have not doubt. Though I do not yet know what that part may be for there is much mischief that he could get into before all becomes clear to me."

"The counsels of Gandalf have always been wise," Galadriel spoke into the stillness. "It would be unwise to discount the words now, though some may find them hard to hear."

The gray wizard bowed, "thank you, Lady Galadriel."

"But who is this Gollum?"

"He was once a person very much like a hobbit. Innocent of heart, perhaps he was at one time," Gandalf murmured, sadly. "But Sauron's Ring found in him an easy prey and corrupted him. This creature Gollum, his real name was Smeagol, held the Ring for five hundred years until he lost the Ring to Bilbo. Whether he lost It or the Ring Itself betrayed him, who can say for sure. But what is clear is that this Ring is now in our possession."

"And now we have come to the purpose of our meeting," Elrond said, recognizing that the time had now come to reveal the Ring to them all. "Frodo, bring forth the Ring."

Giving Gandalf a nervous glance, Frodo approached the podium in the center. Even though the smile Elrond gave him was full of kind understanding, the hobbit felt the weight of the anxiety rest upon his shoulders.

Deny it though he (and others) had earnestly tried, reality had sunken in with painful finality at each revelation. There were to many coincidences for him to ignore. This was more than just an interesting magical ring.

This was THE ONE RING.

The Ring that would give Sauron the ability to bind the other ring bearers to him in his darkness and allow him to control them and their domains. They would be helpless to fight him and what they knew to be wrong. It would twist them into what they were not.

The idea was so horrifying that they all shuddered from the thought.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the Ring and walked back to his seat, unable to look at it.

"This is…what is this?" Elrond asked puzzled, holding the block aloft.

Tension fled as they stared in utter disbelief at the item he showed them. The sun glinted of the yellowish gold item. In the center, they could clearly see the Ring within its grasp, safe and sound.

Bringing it back down, he felt it. Tapping it against the stone podium, a dull thudding sound was heard. Whatever it was, it certainly was solid and firm.

Aragorn groaned. "I knew there was something I forgot to mention."

"You knew of this and said nothing?" Elrohir asked incredulously. "How could you forget something like this?"

"I was going to say something but other things happened that took precedence over this," he defended himself. Granted, it was a weak defense, but it was the simple truth. "I was not the only one who knew. Lady Arwen and Giles were both there when it happened."

"My daughter saw this?"

"Yes," he answered. "It was before we crossed the Ford."

"Aragorn," he sternly said. "It was your responsibility to tell me, not Arwen's. You were placed in charge of the mission."

"What did this?"

Turning to Lady Galadriel, he replied, somewhat thankful that she had turned the attention away from his neglectful behavior. "Mistress Willow. We thought it best that before we departed, we hide it from the Nazgul. Well, it was more her idea than our own."

"Hide it?" Elrond questioned. "Aragorn, she did more than conceal it. By allowing the _sidhe_ to do this, she altered the very nature of the Ring. No wonder she has been so ill, she used powers that she has no ken of."

"Well," he muttered. "It is not like I knew what she was."

"It explains the weakening of our powers. Why you did not recognize immediately what to do with her," Galadriel said, ignoring his words. "While not broken, the Ring's power is lessened. The power It bears is diminished, so have our own. This is most unfortunate."

"Why?" Aragorn asked, a sudden chill creeping over him. Looking over at Boromir, he knew the man felt the same unease he did.

"Sauron will not be unaware of her," Celeborn gravely informed them. "It will not be long before he is alerted to the Slayer and the _daemon_, Giles. Where have they gone?"

"To Moria," Gimli answered when it became apparent that no one wanted to answer the question. The dwarf couldn't blame them in light of this discovery.

The ruler of Lothlorien stared coldly at the dwarf, as though he could not believe that the dwarf had dared to address him so casually. "Did you just say that they have gone into that cursed realm of yours? Though it has fallen into shadow and you have foolishly awoken a great and powerful evil there? Had I been here, I would have prevented such folly and forbid them association with you."

Gimli flushed angrily and opened his mouth, a fiery retort waiting to burst out.

But it was Galadriel who spoke the rebuke instead, startling them.

"These are dark times, my lord. Times in which we should be united against our foe, not to continue to be set against each other as we have been in times past. We should not add to them by laying blame upon the shoulders of those not responsible for the mistakes of others. Be not so rash as to add to Sauron's power. Nor to give heed to your anger and act in so ill a manner, it was not the dwarves who brought this evil into the world."

Though he did not like her words, Celeborn knew the truth of them. "Forgive me."

"Do they not realize that it is a dark and forbidding place? That it has fallen into fierce shadow?" she asked, looking at the dwarves.

"They know," Gloin snorted. "But you could not get them to care about it. They were most determined to go and save their friend. This Xander that Lord Boromir spoke of. What kind of name is that? It does not sound like a very strong name for a man."

"It is short for Alexander," Boromir told him. "Of all the Scoobies, he is the only relatively normal one, though one has to wonder about his taste in women."

"What do you mean?" Celeborn asked, turning to face him.

"About his taste in women?" he asked jokingly.

The elven lord just looked at him, not at all amused.

Boromir sighed, a little despondent. Would it kill these people to find humor in this whole fiasco? More than anything, he wished that he was traveling with the Scoobies. Or they were here with him. "He is not a vampire, nor a watcher like Giles. He has no special abilities like the Slayers and the witches. Or Oz."

"What is an Oz?"

"Oz is a _daemon_, who happens to be a werewolf. His young cousin passed the curse to him ignorantly when they were playing," the answer was swift and lacked the sense of laughter his previous answer had. "Willow's a witch, or a _sidhe_, if you prefer. Giles is a _daemon_ and Buffy's watcher. Faith and Buffy are slayers, while Angel and Spike are vampires. A term you obviously know of, though the rest of us seem to be ignorant of it."

Galadriel rose from her seat once more, her eyes staring off into the distance. There was something in her voice that spoke of dark dealings and sorrowful times-and they winced to hear it. "Vampires and werewolves. I have not heard of such beings in millennias."

Celeborn harshly demanded an explanation from Elrond. "Vampires were destroyed in the battle over the Silmarils. Have you lost your wits in allowing them to return?"

"They are not like the evil that served Sauron and are bound to harm none," Elrond defended his decision. "Through sorcery and artifice, they are changed. I am confident that they will not make anymore of their kind. Mistress Faith will not allow them to. It is her sacred duty to save lives, not allow more demon life to come into being."

"Yet you allowed them continued life," Celeborn accused.

"Besides, they sought sanctuary here. I am not in the habit of killing those in need. Or turning them away when they need help."

"Gentlemen," Galadriel's stern voice cut off any further comments. "This line of conversation is pointless. What has been done cannot be undone. We will deal with the outcome when it happens, though I worry over the man-wolf Oz. What with the wargs, I do not think we need another, more conscious wolf."

"Oz harms only those who harm his pack. He will not bite anyone," Boromir stated. The sheer conviction of his words was enough to soothe the Lady's mind. "Through much study he has learned to control the wolf within."

"Very well," the Lady of Lothlorian accepted his words. "The condition of the Ring is inconsequential, for the moment. Yet, I fear that it will not be destroyed since a strange power has trapped it. Nevertheless, it must be taken to Mount Doom and destroyed."

"What if we were to take it to Tom Bombadil?" Galdor asked. "According to Frodo's tale, he was unaffected by the Ring."

"Yes, unaffected and so he is an unsuitable guardian for he would not understand why we wish to keep it hidden. No, the Ring must be destroyed," Gandalf steadily maintained.

"Should we not use this Ring in our fight against Sauron? Has it not come to us as a gift in our time of great need? For there is a watchman in Mordor who does not need to sleep or rest from his evil," Boromir started. Gandalf's look of contempt stopped his words cold.

"A gift, Boromir?" he questioned slowly. His voice a thunderous quiet in the room, a harsh contrast to what was normally his voice. "Do you not realize yet what this Ring before us really is? This is the very same Ring forged by Sauron himself in the harsh flames of Mount Doom that no other would dare to use for fear of its heat and the penalty it would exact from them. In It, he poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life, whatever it may be. Mark the words on the Ring well, Steward's son, for they reveal that this is no gift, but a curse. A curse to all life."

And so saying, he rose and in a voice that caused the elves to cover their ears, spoke the words on the Ring in the speech they were written in.

"_Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzim-ishi krimpatul_."

"None have ever dared speak the words in the Black Speech in Imladris, Gandalf," Elrond said, as the shadow that had passed over the sun passed over them.

"I do not beg your pardon for only after they had been spoken do I think the reality of the evil we face is realized," Gandalf spoke firmly. "Words in that dark tongue will be spoken in every corner of this world if we do not succeed in destroying this Ring. We have but this one chance to get rid of it while Sauron remains unaware of his danger. He knows It is out here but does not know where It is."

"What does it mean?"

"The words?" Elrond asked Bilbo with a sigh.

These were words he dreaded and did not desire to speak aloud. But they must be spoken if all were to fully recognize what was at stake.

This quest was about the fate of the entire world and all the races that dwelt thereon.

"We have the words from those who heard them the moment they branded the Ring and knew they were betrayed. Simply spoken and passed down to us by the Smiths of Eregion, the words translated are '_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them_.' A harsh and binding curse upon all who possess a Ring of Power."

Silence met his words. They looked at the Ring in the block, so innocent looking and so lethal. There was only one real course of action, though some still resisted the idea because they feared that they would not succeed without It.

The One Ring must go to Mount Doom and be destroyed.

"So, who will go and do this deed?" Galdor asked into the silence igniting another discussion.

"Well, I am all up for going myself. After all, I was the one who brought it out of Gollum's cave. It is my responsibility to see that it is destroyed. Think of what an addition it will make to my little story," Bilbo chuckled.

Though there were some chuckles, most especially from the dwarves for they knew well of his taste for adventure, Gandalf shook his head. "My dear Bilbo, your time as a ring bearer has passed. I believe that it is best that you keep the end of your story as is and let another take up the burden."

"Oh, why is it that your good advice is never pleasant? I should accept this counsel as well. There is no point in arguing with you," he grumbled. "The Ring has grown in strength and I have lost mine. Very well, I shall stay behind and record the events of what happens to It." But there was no harshness to his words. Bilbo knew that he could not take the Ring to Mordor for It would be to great a temptation for him.

"They shall appreciate it," Gandalf smiled.

"Yes, but who are they?"

Gandalf looked at him, puzzled now. "Have you not been paying attention? They shall be the messengers who are sent to destroy the Ring."

"Yes, I realize that. But who are they to be?" he asked.

"What?" Beregond asked, staring at him in consternation. This was one person he could not quite pin down. For all his age, there was a spirit about him that spoke of strength and determination. Those who dwelled in Rivendell-and beyond, clearly respected him. Just what were these hobbits that made them so unique?

"It seems to me that that is the real reason for this council. Not to tell the story of how the strangers came into our midst. Or the Ring's past and how It came into our keeping. We have gathered to chose who will take the Ring to Mordor."

"Bilbo speaks rightly," Elrond said.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond. Now, can no one think of some names for this journey? Will no one volunteer for this task? For the day wanes and we have missed our mid-afternoon meals," Bilbo encouraged. "If not me, then will no one at least volunteer? For this situation calls for action, not more words though elves thrive on them."

Frodo leaned back and closed his eyes. Though it went unsaid, he almost felt that there was something in what Bilbo said. Still, it wasn't up to him. They had done what Gandalf asked and bore the Ring to the relative safety of Rivendell.

Surely they could not expect more of him than that.

Leaning over after a time of listening to the discussions, Elrond held a whispered conversation with Galadriel and Celeborn. Nodding in agreement at their words, he stood and cleared his throat.

When all eyes were on him, he spoke into the silence. "To summarize the events of this council, we have heard the tale of the strangers and will do nothing about their situation for the moment. While we will be watchful and protect them if necessary, we shall leave them to their own devices. Is that acceptable with all?"

Gloin spoke for the dwarves. "It is."

"Your counsel has always been judicious and guided us well in the past. We will not contradict it," Legolas said for the Mirkwood elves.

Thought Boromir wanted to say something else, he knew that he could not. "Lord Elrond, we shall abide by your words. Though I fear that in time, it will become harder to do so."

Gandalf nodded, "he is right. There is much that has changed for us and them."

"That is why I said for the moment. I believe that our dealings with the strangers will be contingent upon the situation they, and we, find ourselves in." He paused, waiting to see if anything else was forthcoming. Though there were some movements, no one spoke up and he nodded.

"We have also come to the agreement that the destruction of the Ring is the correct course of action for us to pursue. It has been proposed that we reconvene tomorrow to decide what company shall travel to take the Ring secretly in Mordor and what measures will be taken to give them time." He did not ask how they felt. He could see in their eyes the weariness they felt. "Frodo, will you please guard the Ring, since It has rightfully come into your possession."

He nodded, not seeing anything to fear in the Ring at the moment. In fact, he wondered if It really had to go to Mordor at all. Willow's unusual powers had trapped It quite firmly, may be she could destroy It for them. There would be no harm in mentioning it to someone, may be Gandalf.

Actually, he didn't know why no one had thought of it before. It seemed to be the perfect solution to their dilemma. The messengers would not need to go to Mordor. They would only need to find her and ask about it. That way, there would be no risk of the Ring actually getting back into Sauron's hand.

His stomach rumbled and he decided that it could wait until later. Obviously, there was no real hurry.

The subdued company shuffled out of the room and made their way towards the feasting hall. Aragorn stayed behind, noticing that Boromir hadn't moved. Finally, he made a decision and walked over to him. "Did you truly think to use the Ring to save Gondor from the evil that plagues it? That the Council would find it an acceptable solution, even knowing what you do of the Ring?"

Straightening up, he met the look of genuine curiosity evenly. "I have some experience with items of great power."

"This is different for It harbors the will of a being of infinite evil," Aragorn murmured.

'That I know, all to well. The Black Speech is not unknown to those in Gondor," he replied, speaking bitterly on. "But, no, I do not believe that Isildur's Bane is a solution any more than I believe that we should ask the Scoobies to fight our battles for us. The words I spoke needed to be said by someone, why not the failure? The man of Gondor who represents the one who did not destroy It when It first came into his hands?"

"No one thinks that you are a failure," he denied.

Brown hair went flying as the head shook in consternation. "How can you be so blind to the condemnation in the eyes of all save Gandalf? On this one thing it seems that the elves and the dwarves are in perfect accord with. If not for the failings of mankind, the fear of the One Ring would not be upon us now."

Aragorn kept silent, knowing that the condemnation lay upon his own shoulders. And that he felt that way himself, though not in relation to this man. They walked out in silence side by side, the ranger broke it at the dinning hall. "What are you going to do?"


	8. You're New here, Aren't You?

_Author's Thanks:_

_Almadynis: Thanks. I have absolutely no idea where she's going to show up. Knowing Buffy as we do, I think she's going to manipulate things so that she can just get to her family. May be. She's being slightly difficult._

_Mari: Thanks. I'm actually not sure there will be any romances going on between any of the Scoobies and those of the Fellowship. Well, other than one that sort of bite me in the butt and wouldn't let go._

_Brutal2003: Oh, I know it's required. But I really hate to do exposition. It always seems so flat. And when you're trying to retell the story without copying it exactly, it's a fine line to walk. So, I'm glad it went over well. At least, I think it did. Didn't it?_

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Even though the doors were open and the conversations going on carried towards them in various tones, they might as well have been alone. For Boromir heard the words as clearly as if they had been shouted and Aragorn focused on him with an intensity rarely exhibited by him.

Mockingly, he bowed to cover his feelings. "Whatever it is the King of Gondor desires of me. If he desires the services of this man who has only the honor of mankind and is no elf, that is." With that, he turned and entered the room.

"Boromir," he started, his hand raised in silent plea towards the man. A plea he did not understand. Though Boromir stopped and turned slightly to face Aragorn, the hand fell back to his side and an uncomfortable silence followed.

Giving him a searching look, he shook his head when nothing else was forthcoming. With disappointment in his eyes, he turned and walked away, leaving Aragorn standing alone in the shadow of the door.

"Why do you not speak to him as you wish?"

Turning, Aragorn saw Arwen standing there. "I do not know. My mind tells me what I should, as does my heart. Yet, my tongue refuses to cooperate and speak the words that I know I should."

Joining him at the door, she studied the man in question. Sitting down beside one of his advisors, he engaged him in discussion. Of what, she did not know, though she had a feeling it had to do with the Ring.

For so confident a man, he listened to the counsel of the elder man. At a gesture from him, he glanced around until he saw them. He bowed in their direction, acknowledging her but did not move to rejoin them.

He returned to the discussion and the man gave no further indication that he was aware of their study. Finally, she spoke. "I do not think he cares what you say to him so long as you speak to him. Not at him as is your wont when dealing with those who are to be your people."

"I do not."

"You do, Aragorn," she gently but firmly contradicted him. "It is not intentional but you are to used to the perfection found among the elves to see the worth in those not of elvish blood. Even with the dwarves, your discomfort with what you perceive as their failings is obvious. It is a hard thing for them to bear for they are a mighty and proud race."

Aragorn studied Boromir, listening to Arwen's words. Then he looked to the dwarves and pondered how he had behaved with them. Could they be true? Did he want them to be so accurate? They were painful to hear and he wished that he could deny them, for they were hard to bear.

But they came from a woman who did not lie. "What must I do?" he sought her counsel.

"Step away from that which comforts you and become a part of that which is to be your life. These are _your_ people. They are not something to hide from. They need you to be with them, to live with them. For them," she stood silent, pensive. "I will not give you an answer to your question until you no longer run in fear from who and what you are."

"I am not afraid."

A sad smile graced her face. "Yes. You are. Aragorn, your fear is so obvious, I do not understand how you could have missed it. It is not a failing, my lord, save that you choose not to let it empower you to motivate you to overcome it. And I fear that I am not the one to encourage you to meet your fate."

Startled, he looked at her, a denial springing to his lips.

"Say it not, Aragorn, for I would not wish for you to be bound by your word if your heart is no longer my own. As a mortal, you are born to change, to become _more_ than a mere ranger. I would have you complete before you give me your true pledge of fealty, for you may discover that I am merely a dream to you. There is nothing to fear from pledging affection to me for I would love you always. But that might not be what you need when you have embraced your true self."

Fearing that her resolve might break were she to remain by his side, the elf bid him a quiet good evening. Leaving him alone, Arwen joined her people, noting the understanding look that her father gave her.

She was grateful for his support, though she knew he did not approve of them still. Her father loved her. He loved Aragorn as another son. He had counseled her before, warning her of the problems their relationship presented. Love him though she may, he warned, she also held him back.

Though it pained her to hurt him as she had, she had done what needed to be done. In order to move forward, he had to be unfettered from his past.

As long as he feared and ran from what he was, he could never belong to her. Strong as he was, Aragorn could not bear the fact that he was a mortal man. That he had the same strength and weaknesses in his blood as Isildur. To be a man was something he deeply feared and fled from.

So, he would be tied to that fear. Belong completely to the terror of wondering if that was to be the day he was discovered. The future that they would build together would be as insubstantial as a cloud, as ephemeral as the dew upon the morning grass. Narsil was not the only broken thing. But while it could be re-forged at any time, only Aragorn could chose to fix himself.

And that was something that she could no longer ignore.

Elrond studied his daughter for a moment, puzzled by her reticence. Then he turned to see Aragorn standing in the doorway. The look on his foster son's face was anything but revelatory.

And yet, he could see beyond the stoic face to the worry and doubt that tore at him. It hurt him to hold out and prevent the two from being together. Yet, he knew what he saw when he looked into the future.

Aragorn was not meant for mortal or immortal woman until he had fulfilled his destiny.

Torn between conflicting desires, Aragorn turned and walked away. Standing on the bridge, with his hands on the railing to brace himself up, he leaned forward to gaze into the water. What was he to do?

He had not asked for this. For any of it, yet the burden was his to carry. His burden alone to bear on the twisting path as they faced a new darkness that threatened to swallow them in its ravenous hunger to destroy all that they held dear.

No.

Not quite alone, for there was a Steward willing to fight beside him. To fight with him, if he could bring himself to ask for that pledge of brotherhood, a pledge he would return with equal fervor in this fight to save their world.

Yet how could he ask someone to do what he would not?

"What's wrong?" Bilbo asked, coming to stand beside the troubled man.

Looking down at the aging hobbit, he was struck with how gracefully and easily the years rested upon his face. For all of the Ring's deteriorating process, it seemed to have failed with Biblo. At least, with his outward appearance, he had heard that it was affecting his soul and making him feel stretch thin. "It is…nothing."

"That is not a nothing face, my boy, and well you know it. Tell me, is it about meeting your destiny? Arwen? The fate of Middle-Earth that seems to bear the full weight of its fate down upon your shoulders?" he asked.

"How is it that you see so clearly?"

"With Gandalf and his riddles in my life, how could I not?" he retorted with a chuckle.

Aragorn smiled, though his was grimmer than the one on Bilbo's face. "Where is the logic in that? I have known him for far longer than you and believe that I cannot say the same as you have done."

"Are you sure that's true?" he asked. "I am one hundred and eleven, Strider, my lad. I have spent much of my time studying the people that walk this world. When one chooses to write down one's journeys, an understanding of the nature of people is a necessity-even one as confusing as yours."

That got a full smile from Aragorn. "When are you going to allow me to see your book?"

"When it is finished," he said.

"You have said that before," he reminded him.

"Well, my story is incomplete for the Ring is still about. As long as that business is still unfinished, then my tale is as well."

"I do not see why," Aragorn started.

"Of course, you do not. You are a man," Bilbo stated. "That Ring played a very important part of my adventure, as did the creature Gollum. Their stories are part of my own to this day they are a part of me. Enough about me now, for you know I can talk about myself for hours, what is on your mind?"

The Ranger sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before nodding. "I do not know what my people expect of me. Elrond expects me to fulfill my destiny before I am able to spend the rest of my life with Arwen. Boromir and the men of Gondor want me to be this mythic, savior king who will destroy their enemies in one single blow and restore glory to their land. Even trapped, I can hear the cry of redemption that Isildur's Bane sings to me."

"And Arwen?"

"She is difficult to explain," he said.

"That is why I never mess with the affairs of the heart," the hobbit chuckled. But Aragorn could tell from the tone of his voice that he was giving his words serious thought. "Are you sure that it is they who have these expectations and not you?"

"What do you mean?"

Bilbo studied him in silence as he thought about what to say. "When Gandalf first approached me, I wanted nothing to do with adventures-and I told him that. But that tricky wizard saw something in me that was needed on this journey. I will tell you quite plainly that I was not pleased when all these dwarves showed up at my house expecting me to be something that I knew I was not. Or so I thought. Besides the thought of being a burglar did not appeal to me."

Aragorn's lips quirked in a smile, the hobbit's roundabout way of talking reminded him a bit of how Gandalf handled things. No wonder the two had managed to stay friends over the years. They both talked in the same fashion. "I know. You have shown me that much from your manuscript. What has this to do with me?"

"Aragorn, you are a patient fellow but in this I find your patience missing. What I am trying to say is that you, like me, are focusing on your own perceptions of what you think others want of you instead of finding out what they really want of you. You are not giving them a chance. You have protected yourself so well over the years that you are unapproachable to them."

After those astounding statements, the two were silent. It was interesting, the ranger thought, how similar his conversation with Bilbo resembled his with Arwen. Both seemed to think that he was intimidating to his future people.

"Do not worry over it, Aragorn. It could be our own perceptions of you that color our judgments," the hobbit said comfortingly.

The ranger was silent for a moment, thinking about what Bilbo said. "No, Bilbo. I believe that there is something in what you say. May be…" his words drifted off into silence.

"May be?" the hobbit asked.

"It is just a foolish thought," Aragorn said, looking in the water below them.

"Many great ideas start as just a foolish fancy," he commented. The two were silent then, enjoying the evening together in the stillness around them.

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The next day dawned bright and clear. Frodo stared out over Rivendell from his balcony and came to a decision. "Sam?" he asked his gardener.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?" The gardener asked, looking up from their packs. The serious look on his friend's face brought him to his side instantly.

"I am going to take the Ring to Mordor."

"Why?" he asked, though he had been expecting this for a while. He knew that both hobbits knew that Bilbo felt at fault for this whole mess. And they knew that he would suggest once more that he go to finish what he had begun. "We have had our adventure and we have seen the elves we dreamed of seeing for so long. This journey is far different from Mr. Bilbo's. It is even different from the one that brought us here for it will travel through a greater unknown, it will not be pleasant."

Smiling a little at the prosaic words, Frodo looked out at the mountains. The words Sam spoke made sense and a part of him wanted to listen. Yet, the hobbit knew that he could not turn his back on this. Frodo answered him. "I know that, Sam. Nevertheless, I will go and do this."

"But why?" he asked again.

"It is for Bilbo that I do this. We, the Baggins family, brought the Ring out of darkness and into the light. It is up to us to set things right, though Gandalf denied that we have any real culpability in this. We do," he finished. "It is up to me to see It destroyed."

"Then I shall accompany you," Sam declared. "I have always wanted to see an oliphaunt and this will be the only time I shall ever do so."

Though grateful, Frodo knew that he shouldn't take advantage of his friend's kind hearted offer. "Sam, as much as I appreciate this, you do not have to go with me."

"Of course I do. What kind of fair-weather friend do you take me for, Mr. Frodo?" he indignantly asked.

"Not a fair-weather friend at all, Sam. You have always been a true companion to me and I welcome your company on this trip. Fraught with danger though it may be," he cautioned.

"I am glad to see that you have suffered no ill for all our late night. But what is this I hear you say?" Lord Elrond spoke from the door. On his wise face, there was a half-sad, half-resigned look upon it. "You wish to journey into Mordor to destroy the Ring."

Though it wasn't a question, Frodo answered it like it was one anyway. "That is quite correct, sir. My Uncle Bilbo brought the Ring out and cannot go to this place, though he wishes to. So, I will journey for him."

"To be a Ring Bearer-especially for the One Ring-is a heavy burden that I would not place upon anyone's shoulders. Yet, if you willingly take it upon yourself, I cannot in good conscience say no for it is your choice. Still, this will lay heavily upon me until I see you safe once more in Rivendell."

The reality of his decision came home to Frodo as he looked into the solemn eyes. Yet, he would not back out. "I understand what you say, Lord Elrond. I have thought long about this and willingly undertake this task. If only for my Uncle Bilbo's sake, he has not said anything to me but I know he regrets thrusting this burden onto my shoulders. I will not return this burden to him."

"If that is your wish, I shall help you chose worthy companions to accompany you." The elf lord gestured for them to follow him. Once they were all in the council chamber, the two hobbits sat between Aragorn and Gandalf. Whispering to Galadriel and Celeborn, he informed them of what he had learned that morning. "This day, one of our questions has been answered. Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee of the Shire have volunteered to undertake this journey. They will take the Ring to Mordor to be destroyed."

"No!" A voice was heard to cry out, only to be silenced by a look from Elrond.

"It is the best course for the sake of all Middle-Earth and the fate of all races. Hobbits have proven to be curiously resilient to the Ring's power. We gather now to chose companions to go with them," he paused and looked around at the assemblage. They were solemn, though some had strong doubt on their faces. "Seven shall be chosen to go with them to match the Nine who seek to find the Ring Bearer."

"I shall go with them," Gandalf said. "For I know ways that they do not. They shall need my wisdom."

"As shall I," Aragorn quietly and tremulously added his own skills to the mission.

Gimli stood and opened his mouth to speak; Legolas' voice rang over his. "You shall have my bow and Gimli's ax-if he desires to join us," he added impishly.

Though he glowered, the dwarf agreed. "You shall need a sensible head since you are journeying with an elf."

"Really?" Legolas innocently asked. "Then why are you going?"

Whatever reply might've been made was swallowed up in the quiet voice that spoke before the dwarf could. "I shall travel with you, if you will have me."

Though he doubted the wisdom of taking the Ring into Mordor, Boromir offered his own services to the quest. Yet, he knew that the insight of the Lord of Rivendell saw farther than the eyes of men.

And things could change on this most perilous journey.

"I shall give you the choice of my elven warriors," Elrond began-and was interrupted.

"You shall not!" Pippin's voice rang out.

"If our friend Sam is to go, why not us as well?" Merry chimed in.

Elrond shook his head. "This is not a journey that I would wish upon you two. There is another journey I think that you should take."

"Let their friendship be more than the strength of warriors on this mission for it has carried them far and safely on the perilous journey to Rivendell."

"I had hoped to send these two back to the Shire, for I fear that it is no longer safe. A shadow hangs over it, Gandalf. Though not dangerous yet, Sauron has been made aware of it and wishes it harm. My heart is set that at least young Peregrin Took should remain behind," Elrond said.

"Please, do not ask me to stay, for I would only follow after my friends. You would have to lock me up to restrain me from following. And you would then have to sew me into a sack and send me under guard to the Shire," he stoutly maintained.

Elrond sighed deeply, giving into the pleading eyes of Pippin and the wisdom of Gandalf, who knew the race of hobbits best. "Very well. These mine companions should set out at first light tomorrow with all that can be easily carried by them. The journey should be made in swift silence so as to avoid the eye of Sauron's forces."

"I have never started a journey without blowing the Horn of Gondor," Boromir said. "For I do not like to journey as a thief in the night."

Beregond turned to look at him, "we shall sound the trump for you, Lord Boromir."

Galadriel quietly spoke to him and Celeborn when they were alone. "This deed is well done."

"Is it? Then why do I feel like this is so wrong?"

"Because they are very young and innocent," she calmly answered the challenge in his words. "It is in the hands of those we see as children that we trust the future of this world to. It is an uncertain and uneasy prospect. We should be on our way soon, my lord, for they shall need us to give them rest and safety."

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The journey was taken in silence, broken only occasionally by the spirits the younger hobbit exhibited. Looking up at the vast whiteness of Caradhras, a feeling of reverence and awe descended upon them. Then, under Gandalf's guidance, they started their climb.

Almost immediately, they were buffeted by the heavy snows.

More than half-frozen before they'd taken a half dozen steps, they pressed on up the mountain. To the mind of Gandalf, this was a fool's errand. They would never be able to cross over Caradhras. He knew that the Fellowship would press onward until forced to admit defeat and turn around.

He only hoped that they would be able to go back, rather than face the almost certain merciless death that would occur should they continue to ascend Caradhras. Only its icy grip waited them if they stayed.

Huddling over the fire, they shivered in the relentless cold. The flames barely flickered as they waited under their make shift shelter. Aragorn and Gandalf were off to the side, in the midst of an intense discussion.

"I cannot believe that you would still contemplate that path after all I have said," he said.

The thick brows drew together as a mighty frown settled on his face. "I have listened to your concerns with all due consideration. The hobbits cannot long endure this path, no matter how much _miruvor_ I share; it will not be enough to keep us going. We cannot long endure this mountain's frigid fury. Redhorn Gate is watched by the _crebain_ and we cannot pass through Rohan for Saruman's eyes will be watching. Caradhras will be the death of us should we remain. We must turn back and travel to Moria. It is our only choice."

"And a harsh choice it is," he bitterly spoke. "Both paths lead us to certain death. Yet it is in Moria that I find the most reasons for fear."

Legolas sat alone, trying to keep aware of Caradhras' movements without listening in on the conversation that did not include him. Gimli, he noted with a faint sense of loneliness, was off with the hobbits. A bit of conversation drifted towards him and he listened to the gruff voice for a moment before turning his mind back to their precarious situation.

Story telling, he thought with an amused smile, the dwarvish version of their history.

The one person he was not sure about was Boromir. All his notions of what man was like were tumbled by this man's behavior and his actions towards the hobbits. Not once had he made an attempt on the Ring.

True, the Ring was not able to tempt anyone at the moment; still there should be some temptation for the man. The man from Gondor was a powerful individual, something that the Ring sought to ensnare. He commanded many forces and was a prideful man, why did he do nothing?

Why, when he had a powerful friend in the _sidhe_, did he not take it? Surely it would not be a hardship for her to undue what she wrought. Why then did he delay?

It was a question that bore a lot of thought-and one he would ask Gimli about. As a dwarf, he was closer to mankind than he, as an elf was.

Returning from an exhausting search for wood, the object of his thoughts dropped what he had found close to the flames. Then, he fell onto the ground, rubbing his tired eyes. Glancing around, he found the eyes of the elf on him. "Anything?"

After a moment, Legolas' head shook. "No change. I feel that there is some danger that has yet to reveal itself here. We should not have stopped."

"We could not continue," he objected, though it was without bite. "No matter how much of that warming cordial Gandalf gave us…"

"_Miruvor_," the elf murmured.

"What?"

"It is called _miruvor_, the cordial of Imladris."

"Fine, the _miruvor_, we could not continue to walk with snow pressing down upon us. The drink would not be able to carry us over this mountain. It might have escaped your notice but we are not elves," he dryly said. "We do not have your unique abilities to survive."

"That is precisely what I have been telling Aragorn," Gandalf commented as the two joined them.

"Really?"

"Well, I did not think to bring up that we were not elves, but I did mention that we should take another path to Mordor." Sitting down, he withdrew his pipe and chewed on it reflexively. "If we try to push forward, we will not survive. Caradhras is a cruel taskmaster and is unhappy with us."

"One could say the same of Moria and the mines beneath the mountain," he countered.

"Not quite, I know a path through the Mines of Moria. I have walked it once and I can do so again." Calm though the statement had been, a sudden fear swept over Gandalf's listeners.

"I do not doubt that you could lead us out," Aragorn objected. "But within Moria dwells an evil that has nothing to do with Sauron. I feel what it will do should we enter them."

An unspoken to you was whispered on the breeze.

"You would imperil the lives of all the Fellowship out of fear? Fear over my welfare? And taking up the burden of leadership yourself?" Gandalf did not hesitate to bring it up and force Aragorn to admit it. "Have you no understanding of all that is at risk if we fail? Did the words spoken by Elrond and Galadriel mean nothing to you?"

"Of course, I do. This mission is about saving all life on Middle-Earth," he began.

"Then there shall be no more discussion. We will make one last attempt to ascend this mountain. If that fails, then it is into Moria we shall go."

The finality of his proclamation ended the discussion.

Caradhras remained as cruel and unattainable as it ever had been. At one point, it had nearly buried them in a mass of snow that carried them down the slope they had just climbed up. Gandalf looked back at Aragorn and watched as the man bowed his head in resigned acknowledgement.

"Down the mountain, we must make for the Mines of Moria."

"But, Gandalf, what of the shadow that dwells within? Though I long to see my ancestral home, I do not wish it at the risk to our quest. But if you say that it is our only choice on this journey, then I shall walk by your side and face whatever battles you met up with."

"It is our only choice," the Istari spoke and led them down the path back to the road.

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"Well?" Buffy demanded, throwing open the door and storming into the apartment.

"Don't you ever knock?" Lindsey asked, almost dropping the glass of wine in his hand.

Getting right into his face, the slayer hissed menacingly. "Look, MacDonald, we can either do this the hard way," she paused and made a fist. Using that fist, she slammed it into the wall beside him. "Or we can do this the difficult way. Your choice."

"I was just asking," he said. "Calm down."

"Listen, MacDonald, my family is not here. I don't have the time, or the patience to play nice with you. I learned a lot about how to gather information from the Watcher's Council and feel absolutely no guilt about using them on you. Now, talk." Grabbing him by his shoulders, she slammed him against the wall. Moving back, she let him fall to the ground.

"You need to work on that temper of yours," he muttered, rising. "Peace, Miss. Summers. I got the information you kindly asked me to get," he commented sarcastically.

"Well?" she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him impatiently.

"Glory wants you here," he said, sitting on the couch. "As you have already noted, your family is not here. She believes that by holding your family in another place, as her hostages, you will lead her to the Key."

She sank down onto the couch beside him, pale and trembling. "I thought so. I would never do that, no matter what she does."

"Why not?"

"Do you not know what would happen if she got her hands on the Key?"

His head shook, studying her profile. "I only asked her if she desired our aid. The senior partners dealt with her, personally handling her affairs. We only got involved when she needed our minor aid."

"Minor?" she snorted. "It was because of you that…never mind. Though it is your fault, I will not discuss it with you. The point is that if Glory were to get hands on the Key, the very fabric that holds the world together would be ripped to shreds."

Lindsey choked, "what? Why were we not told?"

"Probably because they knew you had a conscience that would reawaken one day," she said scathingly. "Listen, I want you to find out where they are. Find a way for me to get to them and all your debts to society will be paid. In my eyes, at least, I can't guarantee the same thing from Angel though. His business with you is his own and I do not interfere with it."

He nodded, thinking it best for his sanity if he just agreed. Not to mention his physical health. "What are you going to do?" he asked, watching her stand up and go to the door.

"I think it would be best that you don't know that," she said.

"You can't be thinking of going to see Glory!" Stronger than him or not, he grabbed her arm and held her in place. "That would be suicide!"

A cold look greeted the words. The words were ever colder. "Scared for your life, lawyer?"

He ignored that. "Slayer, going to see Glory would do you no good and you know it. You can't be so stupid as to think that you could change her mind."

"Thanks for the concern over my mental state. A bit late for it though, don't you think?"

"Don't you understand what you are up against yet? Glory is a **_Hell_** **_Goddess_**, not some piddling little demon. The power she wields is beyond your comprehension. You are only a slayer, there is no way you could defeat her."

"Only a slayer?" she challenged. "They don't teach you enough about us if you think that we are _only_ something. That law firm of yours only knows of my physical strength, not the power which makes me what I am."

"We are quite aware of the power you used to take care of the Initiative. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how strong you are if you don't know how to reach that power," he stated. "And you only reached that power because of your friends. Who are you going to ask to guide you? Wesley?"

He had a point.

The blasted lawyer had a big point, she knew that. She knew it and admitted to it, if only in her mind. Going to see Glory in her lair had not helped in the past and every time they'd faced off, she had lost spectacularly. In a battle with her, she had no advantage.

All the same, the fact still remained that Glory had challenged her. The blonde had trespassed the invisible boundary line she'd drawn that no other enemy had dared try breach. She had robbed her of the one thing that mattered more than life in this world to her-her family.

"Such selflessness," she mocked him. "I would be flattered but I know that it's only your hide you're interested in saving, not mine."

"Did I ever deny that?" he asked. Being a somewhat honest individual, Lindsey wouldn't pretend to have a different agenda than saving himself.

"But she has taken my family," she carried on over his interruption. "She has to know that such an act will not be tolerated."

"She didn't take them all," he pointed out dryly.

"No. My mom's death was quite natural," she flatly agreed. "And I hardly consider Wesley or Cordelia to be my family. As for Fred and Gunn…I don't know them as anything more than valuable allies."

"Yet, you care about their fate," he stated. "They are your weakness."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Act like nothing has happened? Go about my patrolling as though my world hasn't been shattered?" she demanded, rapidly firing her questions at him. "I can't do that. And you know it."

Breaking free, she left him alone in the apartment. Lindsey watched her walk away, heavyhearted. The fate of the world rested upon those belligerent and oh, so painfully young shoulders.

Heaven help them all.

Buffy stormed down the street, stake already out and finding its way mercilessly into the dead hearts of those foolish enough to cross her path. A movement in the distance caught her eye and she moved into the shadows, creeping towards it. Watching for a moment, a feral smile crossed her face as she realized what it was she was seeing.

As fluid as water, she was out and had the demon pinned to the wall. "I've got a message for that piece of trash you call mistress. Tell her the Slayer says no deal. Got that?" Not waiting for a reply, she dropped him on the ground and left.

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"So, the little girl wants to play hard ball. Fine. We'll see how brave she is when she's lost everything." Glory laughed.

Gay in sound, it had volumes of ominousness within it.

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"I'm telling you," Cordelia informed Fred and Gunn as she filed her nails. "Buffy's going to go more than slightly mental over this fiasco, she's absolutely going to flip. Go nuts. Lose it completely. You've never seen her deal with loss like this."

"Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"Gunn, were you there when she lost Angel to the evil twin that is Angelus?" she asked, pointing the file at him. "She was absolutely…yikes!"

"What the?" he jumped back. Blinking his eyes, he looked again. The vision was the same.

Cordelia was gone.

In fact, everything he knew was gone.

Rising up from the dirt ground, he looked around to see if he could figure out where he was. Or even when he was. Eyes widened as he saw…trees.

Not just any trees, these were enormous, towering, massive, encircling trees.

They completely surrounded him and he turned around, unable to see a path leading out of the circle. Gunn had never seen such trees before in all his life-not even the huge sequoias of California came close to these babies.

_Twang_!

Jerking back, he stared in wide-eyed shock at the arrow now firmly embedded in the tree he'd just stood in front. "Oh," he started to say but was silenced when a knife was placed at his throat.

"Who are you?" a voice whispered in his ear. "And what business bring you to Ithilien?"

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Cordelia pushed herself up off the cold floor and glanced around. Seeing the man on the throne, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Is it beyond your ability to offer aid to a lady?"

"If a lady you were, my aid would be offered most swiftly. But your manner of dress and entrance denotes that you are no lady," he replied, not amused.

"And, of course, you with your atrocious taste in clothing, who apparently would die if you actually took a bath, is a perfect judge of who is and who isn't a lady." Rising to her feet, she smoothed down her outfit and stared at him. "For your information, you boor, I am Queen Cordelia of Pylea. You would be?"

He found, much to his dismay, that his eyes could not hold hers and he dropped them.

"Well?" she demanded, standing her ground. "You do have a name, don't you? And a tongue to offer it with?"

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Author's Note: Yes, I know. My Aragorn is a namby pamby wimp. I just can't help it, I'm trying to blend both the movie and book versions of him like I'm trying to do with all the other characters. And it isn't working. So, where do you think Cordy ended up?


	9. To Deal With Devils

Fred fell off the chair she was sitting on, frightened by the sudden blast of light. Tears of pain sprang to her eyes as her behind hit the ground. "Gunn? Cordelia? Come on, guys, this isn't funny." Getting up gingerly, she walked around the desk and out into the main room. "Where are you?" she called.

When there was no immediate response, she searched the premises inside and out. "Okay, joke's over. Come out." She said it firmly, but it was laced with terror. Deep inside-or not so deep, she knew that her friends were gone.

"Fred? Are you all right?" A voice asked from the door and she turned.

Gasping in shocked relief, she flung her arms about him and gave him a hug, before scolding him. "Wesley, you shouldn't be here." Resting her hand on Connor's head, she bent down and kissed his soft forehead gently.

"I know, but we needed to see Giles and Willow. Where are they?"

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back. "We don't know, everyone in Sunnydale vanished, they even have Angel. And Cordelia, and Gunn are gone now."

"Everyone?" he gasped.

"Not quite," someone drawled. "Buffy Summers is still roaming about. Why are you back?"

"None of your business," Wesley stiffly informed the lawyer. "And since when is it allowable for you to make yourself free with Angel's Investigations?"

"Since I left Wolfram and Hart," he sat down. "I have some more information for the slayer and since I am tired of her making herself free with my home, I came here."

"What is it?"

"One would think that you would try to instill some manners into your slayer," he dryly commented. "Though it does answer the question of where she learned to do business."

"MacDonald," she snapped at him irritably. "I may have brought you into this but I don't believe there was anything in this about you making yourself free with our sanctuary."

"Summers," he greeted.

"You said you had news," she started. "What is it?"

"What? No hello? Thank you for trying. How have you been? It didn't require you selling your soul to Wolfram and Hart to get this?"

"Hello. Thank you. I don't need to ask how you are. I can tell you're fine because I can see how well you look. And you can't sell what you don't have," she ended.

"I'm hurt," he pouted.

"Pay me to care," Buffy retorted, sitting down on the chair.

"Are you going to let her talk to me like that?" he asked, turning to look at Wesley.

"Buffy," he sat down across from Lindsey so that he could watch his face. "As much as I enjoy a good trip down memory lane, this isn't the time. Stop channeling Faith. One juvenile delinquent slayer is more than any world needs."

"You haven't seen Faith lately, have you?" she muttered the question. "Now that the niceties are done, let's get on with why you are here. What do you know now that you didn't know last night?"

"Lorne called."

"Why would he call you and not us?" Fred asked, staying on her feet. Illogical though it was, she felt that if she sat down, these three would be taken from her.

"I asked him to give me a call if he discovered anything else. He was rather reluctant but I, uh, insisted."

Buffy's eyes narrowed and she harshly asked. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing."

"Then why did he agree?" Wesley asked, soothing Connor at the same time. Sensitive to the moods around him, the baby was unhappy with all the tension and was crying softly.

"Ultimately, only he could tell you that," he shrugged. "May I continue?"

"Go ahead," Buffy acerbically invited.

"They are in an old stopping ground of Giles. Any other information than that, he could not give me. Says that the Watcher's Council guards that data the same way they do the names of future slayers," he informed them briskly. "But he did give me one more thing."

"Well?" she asked when he stopped.

"I'm not saying anything else until I have your word that you will protect me from Glory," he bargained.

She raised an eyebrow before looking at Wesley and Fred. "You're just thinking about that now?"

"Before, I could get away with it. If I tell you this, I have permanently burned my bridges from under my feet. No promise, no deal."

"It's up to you, Buffy," Wesley said. "No matter what, I'll support you."

"So will I," Fred softly said.

"Very well," she reluctantly agreed to the deal. "You have my word."

"He's in a place where myth and legend are reality," he started.

"That's it? You need a promise of protection over that little thing?"

"I wasn't finished," he frostily told her. "This place is within our world. To gain access to it without the proper authority is to unbind the fabric that makes it safe."

"I don't understand," Buffy said.

"I do," Wesley murmured. She turned to him, an expectant expression on her face. "Glory is able to send our friends to this place because, as a goddess, the fabrics of time are in her hands. We cannot do the same since we don't have that same right."

Fred cleared her throat. "But Willow, Giles, and Amy sent you into another world. Why don't we just find another coven to do this?"

"It wouldn't work," he explained. "I was sent out of this world, not deeper into it."

"So, what? I'm supposed to sit here and do nothing?" Buffy demanded an answer.

"Who says you do nothing? You could simply give me what I want." A voice purred at the door. Turning as one, they saw Glory there.

Springing to her feet, Buffy made as though to approach her but Wesley stopped her. "Not now. We must flee." Using a light trick, he blinded the goddess and they disappeared.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do you think you'll be doing anyone any good if she's killed you?'

"Do you think I'm doing anyone any good hiding away from her?" she countered.

"What does it matter?" Fred exclaimed. "She'll find us sooner or later. We have got to make a plan and stick to it."

"Fred has a point," Wesley said. "So, why don't we go to Albion? Connor and I were safe from Glory there."

Buffy was silent. Everything in the slayer rebelled against the idea of leaving the world she protected. This was her home and if she left, she was deserting it to Glory's reign. A reign of absolute and unstoppable evil.

If they stayed, there was the chance that more of her friends and family would be taken away from her. There was more danger in remaining than in leaving.

Nevertheless, she was the slayer. Could she leave that part of her behind in order that the greater good might be accomplished?

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Walking North, Aragorn felt as though every step he took was weighted down. Moria's dark shadow loomed before them all and he did not want to go, though the decision had been made by the will of the Ring Bearer. Down the stairs they walked and soon found themselves standing in front of solid wall.

When a shaft of moonlight pierced the clouds, it revealed the gates before them. Gandalf read the riddle aloud and pondered what it could possibly mean. As he did so, the sound of footsteps approaching them had them reaching for their weapons.

"It is Mistress Faith and her companions." Legolas said, recognizing a voice in the crowd.

As the newcomers rounded the corner, they could hear Spike say, "see? I told you there was another way in."

"You've made your point," Angel replied, acknowledging the Fellowship. "I thought that your journey lead into Mordor. What are you doing here?"

"The way is blocked," Aragorn answered. "You?"

"The same," he said with a sigh. "We let our horses go free a while back when the terrain got rockier."

Aragorn watched as Legolas, Angel, Spike, Faith, and Oz stiffened. They were starring off into the distance, focusing on something he couldn't see. But he felt it. "What is it?"

Before anyone could reply, Frodo slipped into the inky waters. The hobbit scrambled out, shaking as he accepted Oz's hand. "Something is in the water," he chattered.

"Where?" Aragorn automatically moved in front of him.

"There," Faith pointed, positively identifying the spot.

"Where?" he repeated.

Without bothering to repeat her answer, both she and Legolas let lose twin arrows into the water. The creature rose, angry eyes stared at them for a second before letting out a cry of rage and lurching towards them.

"There," Faith repeated.

"Gandalf? An entrance would be great," Aragorn yelled, following the creature's movements with his eyes.

"Patience," he stared at the inscription. "What is it, Merry?"

"What does it mean? Speak friend and enter?" he dutifully answered, though he feared the creature in the water. "Frodo! Look out!"

The warning came just a second to late. A tentacle snaked out of the water and grabbed him, hoisting the hobbit high over them. Another one seemed to be searching him for something.

Giles and Willow came around the corner at that moment. The watcher saw the squid like creature fighting with the Fellowship and his own companions. So far, things looked to be about even, though he did worry about young Frodo being held captive by that thing.

She stiffened, feeling the threat in the air and turned towards it involuntarily.

"Don't you dare," he ordered sternly, keeping a firm grip on her arm. The two of them walked over to Gandalf, keeping the other two hobbits with them. It didn't occur to them to try to pull Sam away from the fray.

"How silly of me!" Gandalf exclaimed. "Merry had the statement right all along. I read the inscription as though it was being addressed to a friend whose name would replace the word friend. What it really means is that friend is the password."

"Save the lecture. Open the bloody door!" Spike hollered, catching Frodo after Boromir had cut him free. Tossing him onto the shore, he absently noted that Sam pulled him up to safety behind Gandalf.

"Youth, you have such impatience." But Gandalf stood before the door and spoke the password. "_Mellon_!"

A flash of light lit the star briefly before the doors opened. "To the stairs!" Gandalf cried out. As one, the fighting party struck a vulnerable spot, then dashed into the mines and chocked on the scent of lingering death. Almost instantly, the doors slammed shut and they stood, listening in horrified amazement to the sound of things barricading the doors.

With a sturdy _thump_, Gandalf's staff suddenly lit up. Though the light was small, it illuminated much of the path before them. "There is but one road now and this is into the long dark. It is a four day journey to the east exit and a perilous journey it will be."

"Yeah, the smell here will kill us," Faith muttered.

"Levity is a nice thing-when the time is appropriate," the Istari commented.

"If we wait until then, there will be no point for it. We will be dead," Spike retorted. "Well, deader that some of us already are."

At that point, Willow pushed away and took off into the dark vastness of Moria. Giles made to follow her but Spike stopped him. "We're more prepared for this kind of situation than you are-even if you are a _daemon_. Slayer, if we haven't found you in three days time, seek us then."

Though resentful, she knew he was correct. Nodding once to show she understood, she watched the three leave. Oz had transformed and led the way into the mines. Meeting the eyes of the Fellowship, she nodded firmly. "We stay with you. For now."

Gandalf, with his staff glowing brightly, led the way into the gloomy, oppressive darkness of Moria. Gimli stood at his side, Aragorn at the rear and the others falling into line between them.

They had been walking for two days with little rest, Faith and Giles took a moment to slip away to talk. Behind them, the Fellowship were resting and a few of them were talking quietly. "Do you think they're all right?" she asked, trying to shake the feeling that a thousand eyes were staring at them, hidden in the darkness.

The watcher silently thought about the question. "I do not know. Willow has gotten stronger and the boys will be careful. But if the evil that has been awakened is greater than they are, I fear what will happen to them."

"One does not only have that evil to worry about," Aragorn said from behind them. "Moria has been overrun by goblins. The sheer weigh of their number is enough to overwhelm even a large army."

"This is a private conversation, squirrel boy."

"May be it is, but we are in this long journey of darkness together. And I know things that are here that you and Master Giles do not."

"Fine," she huffed, then she recalled his earlier words. "Goblins? Ugly. Dumb. Little devils. Kidnappers of children?"

Confused by this reference, Aragorn did not reply.

"These are not movie goblins, Faith. These goblins are demons," Giles explained. "Not true demons, of course, but close enough. To kill and devour life is all they seek to do."

She nodded, recognizing the truth behind his words. No matter how careful they were, if they didn't separate from the Fellowship, they would be leading the danger to them. "We should leave."

"Leave?" Aragorn asked. "Why?"

The slayer held up her hand and ticked off her points. "One, the time limit Spike gave us is almost up. Therefore, we would be leaving you tomorrow night anyway. Two, your journey is already to full of danger and peril. I do not know if Glory is going to throw anything else at us. I don't want to add to your troubles."

"You don't know the way out of Moria, save by the hidden gate," he protested. "And you will have no light to illuminate your path."

"We'd have two vampire eyes who can see into this darkness. It is one of their natural abilities. We also have a werewolf, he'd be able to smell the fresh air and take us to it."

"But if you are harassed by an enemy, they would be confused," Boromir quietly added his voice in support of Aragorn's argument.

"You will stay with us," Gandalf ordered. "I know the path out. Once we have traveled the way, it will be easier for your companions to follow us."

The voice was firm. It allowed for no argument or discussion. Resentfully, the slayer subsided. In her estimation of things, this was an eminently bad idea.

Knowing there was nothing more to say, she joined them. This time, she remained apart from the company. If battle came, she did not want to force her way towards it.

In fact, she was looking forward to trouble.

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Spike paused, glancing over at Angel. The dark haired vampire heard the sound to. Oz concentrated on Willow's scent, but the bunched muscles of his shoulders revealed his awareness. He had been aware for some time.

Thousands of footsteps were headed their way.

Easing his way up to the redhead, the blonde vampire made sure that he never misstepped on the broken and crumbling ground. "Red, we have got to go. Something's coming," he hissed near her ear, being careful to avoid any swings she might take at him with her staff.

"Xander," she whispered, ignoring the vampire for the moment.

The brown bowed head lifted, peering at her through lashes knit together with grime and blood. "Willow?" his voice rasped on their nerves, so harsh from the screaming and ill usage his time in the mines had caused it to be. "No. You aren't really here," he denied dully, echoing a conversation he'd once had with Giles.

A shriek rent the air and the young man jerked back, the chains clacking loudly in the cavernous room. Pain and terror filled the brown eyes that searched the room desperately looking for something he already knew wasn't there.

"Red?" Spike hissed warningly.

Hearing that voice, Xander jerked again. Somehow, he couldn't believe that his mind could be so desperate for comfort that it would conjure up the blonde vampire. Therefore, his best friend was truly there.

"Come back later, Will," he pleaded. "Don't let them get you too."

She shook her head, "I can't do that. Not now that I've found you after three and half days search."

"Please, go."

"Did you leave me in the hands of Glory's minions when I begged you to?" she retorted.

"Spike," he appealed, as the sounds got closer. He knew what they would do and didn't want Willow exposed to it.

Without a word, the blonde clamped one hand over her mouth and hoisted her off her feet and into his arms. Dragging her fighting body, he hid them in shadow and bit back his pain as she continued to struggle against him.

Though she knew he meant her no harm, that she should be still, the redhead couldn't help but struggle against his hold. Her ears picked up what she hadn't before, being so focused on Xander that she hadn't listened. Stopping, she listened to the hideous sounds encircling them.

She could feel the very breath of the inhuman creatures as they passed them by on their way to Xander's cell. The sharp intake of her companions made her grateful, for the first time that she could no longer see. Flinching back as her ears twitched towards a sound, she could hear the mingled music of his pain and their laughter of enjoyment surround them. They tried to stopper their ears against the sound, but they were unsuccessful.

The sounds would not die away.

A rage boiled within Willow, different from any she'd experienced before. The anger lived within her and intertwined with her power to become a new life. Pulling into its web the fear that they felt as they stood there, it became even stronger and lashed out.

Oz felt it and the fur at his neck rose. He growled low, warningly.

It came to late.

Power exploded. Those within the epicenter, hung on with all their strength as it raged about them. The whole section trembled under the weight and started to collapse under the strength of the uncontrolled storm.

Screeches of hurting now came from the dark creatures that had assaulted Xander. Cries of agony were crushed out before they truly emerged. Spike wrestled with Willow, though she stood immobile against the storm, dragging her down the path as the pillar they'd hidden behind crumbled to the ground.

Angel shivered at the sight of the dark eyes that glowed inhumanly in the bloodless skin as they passed him on their way out. The werewolf tore by him and leapt between the falling stones and failing pillars. With one furious jerk, he freed the chains from the wall and dragged him out.

Quickly, Angel picked the boy up and ran after the others. Oz passing him almost immediately in their mad dash to the stairs that waited in one of the rooms. The chains dragged along the ground until, with a shattering scream, they broke loose and fell down the rapidly widening hole in the ground.

A few levels up but farther on, they stopped. Gandalf's eyebrows rose and he turned to face Giles. Closing his eyes briefly, the watcher nodded in resignation.

"Fool of a witch," he muttered.

"Hey," Faith objected. "Impulsive, may be. But Willow is no fool."

"I was not referring to her level of intelligence but to her lack of caution. In this, I maintain that she is a fool. We must move on before the destruction reaches us." Their pace quickened, though they remained as steady and silent as possible.

"How are they going to meet up with us now?" Faith anxiously whispered to him, worrying her lower lip.

"They won't," he flatly informed her. "Oz will lead them towards fresh air-but he will avoid us now for fear of pursuers. Thanks to this, they are far from under safe cover. Blast that girl. I hope it was worth it."

Faith narrowed her eyes and frostily spoke. "Willow would never have revealed herself unless there was a good reason. I am sure _she_ believes that saving Xander is one. We can't afford to separate anymore!" she argued.

Boromir laid his hand on her shoulder. "Faith, you do not have a choice. If something had happened to them, who would rescue Xander? They will find us."

Faith shook off his hand. "You don't know that for sure."

"No," he honestly agreed. "I do not. I only know what I believe and that is this-I do not think you were sent here to be killed. With the exception of Xander, you all arrived in places of relative safety."

Faith gasped, "Giles, the Key."

He paled. "No. She couldn't possibly be thinking…"

When he trailed off, Faith swung out her arms helplessly. "Well, why wouldn't she?"

They silently trailed after the Fellowship. Boromir felt as though something vital had been omitted from their story. But he did not press them, knowing that they would tell him.

Eventually.

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Leaping ahead of them, Oz took off and they followed him, still at a run. Willow was once more moving under her own power, while Xander was still being carried by Angel. The sounds of pursuit trickled down to nothing after a time and they slowed down to take stock of their situation.

Before them was a crumbly path and tall pillars of stone towered above them to amazing heights. The craftsmanship was beyond anything they could comprehend and they stood in amazed silence, staring around them, slack-jawed.

Time became meaningless as the two groups struggled to find the exit. The darkness became an intimate and beloved friend to them all. It was such an integral part of their lives that they wondered if they would ever be able to adapt once again to life above ground.

To living in the sunlight's warm rays.

While Gandalf knew of its presence, the others would have been surprised had they known that Gimli also felt trepidation inside as the long dark walk continued. Though a dwarf may love the dark, when that dark was full of unimaginable horrors, the light was often sought to banish all fears.

Even the ones they refused to acknowledge.

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"Stop," Xander croaked. "I can't go any further."

Willow rested her hand on his shoulder. She had used what little medicine they had left to heal his wounds but there wasn't enough time to fully care for him. Through his shirt, she could feel the dry fever burning there. He needed to rest.

After her stupid move back in the caverns, she did to. But she took this walk as her punishment for losing her self-control. She knew better than to use her magic for her own personal gain. Yet she had wrought her own will and killed many in the process.

They couldn't afford to stop for either of them to rest. It was still too risky. "Let Angel carry you," she begged.

His face set mulishly. "No."

"Xander, please." It was the same plea she'd been giving for the past two days-and it had as much affect now as then.

"Not even for you, Willow."

Listening to them, the dark haired vampire felt a wave of irritation at the boy's stubbornness and growled. Angel wasn't in the mood to patiently wait for the two to sort things out. They had been chased and pursued by unknown beings. They had no way back into their world and he would never see his son again.

This journey took its toll on them all. None of them were spared its harsh bite. Leaning over, he growled low. "You can either be carried by force or by your own free will. But you will be carried. Now, choose."

"Back off, dead boy," he replied, hiding his fear under a mask of bravado.

Pinching a nerve on the back of his neck, he flung the unconscious boy over his shoulder and stalked off. "Force it is," he muttered.

Though troubled, Willow didn't object to this action. They journeyed on in silence. Spike kept a careful eye on Angel. While much stronger, he didn't think he could defeat Angelus in a fight, should the master vampire return.

Of course, that wasn't to say he would. He wanted to survive more than prove something to buoy up his ego.

When Xander woke, he couldn't figure out what was going on. The lack of evil laughter was all that prevented him from thinking they had all been captured. And he couldn't really ask, a barely audible mumble was all he could manage.

Angel heard him anyway and almost spoke when something came whizzing down beside them and crashed below them.

Freezing in place, they waited, holding their breaths in the encompassing stillness that hung over them. Strange sounds echoed above them. Heavy footsteps caused dirt and rocks to fall towards them in a dusty rainstorm.

Oz returned to human form for a moment. "This way."

"What is it?" Willow asked.

"A cave troll," he answered before returning to the wolf and fleeing down one of the worst sections of the mine.

Abandoning all caution, they ran after him towards the dark unknown. Which turned out to be a roomful of broken staircases-and their own fleeing companions on another staircase above them.

Faith saw them. "Rope. We need rope."

Giles closed his eyes and began to weave something in the air. "Be my eyes, Faith, guide me down the steps."

As arrows fired passed them, she took him down the unsteady steps. Legolas leapt across the broken area, Gandalf followed after a moment. There was a flash of light and rope appeared to be hanging in the air over the Scoobies and behind the two on the stair.

Angel helped Spike secure Willow around his neck, then watched as the two made the precarious ascent. Oz tied Xander to him so that his arms could be free and he followed after them.

Once they were across and safe, Oz made his move. Knowing that they could leave no trace of this magic behind them, he pulled down the length of rope on their end. Tying it about his waist, he closed his eyes and leapt into the air.

Spike and Angel pulled him up to them and he guided both Willow and Xander away from the fight. Merry, Pippin, and Sam joined Legolas, Boromir, and Gandalf, quickly moving further down the path.

Once Giles was safely across, Faith unslung her bow and matched Legolas arrow for arrow in covering fire. They both kept fighting, though they knew it was useless. For every one they killed, two more would take that place.

Gimli cleared the jump, shielding Giles as the two followed after the others. They heard a dull sound of something breaking. Senses tingling of imminent danger, she fired off another arrow and felt the rocking under her feet. Exchanging glances with Aragorn, she hoisted Frodo into the air.

"**BOROMIR**!" she hollered in warning.

The man of Gondor caught the hobbit and took him by the hand, leading him down to his friends. The hobbits and the Scoobies were currently sitting on the floor, trying to regain control of their breathing.

Grinning, he walked over to him and playfully spoke. "Xander, met everyone not fighting or playing with the dancing staircases. Everyone who does not fall into that category, this is Xander. Formal introductions will have to wait until a more opportune time."

The boy grinned at him. It seemed like so long since a true grin crossed his face and he enjoyed the feeling of it. "Nice one, Boromir."

An eyebrow rose and he looked at him. "Is that all you are going to say?"

"What else is there?" he asked. "Unless you mean something about asking after Cordelia."

"Cordelia?" he repeated. "No, no. She is not even here. I meant about Buffy."

"Oh, Buffy. Right," he paused and looked around. "Is she here?"

"No," he slowly answered.

"Then why would I ask about her?"

"Never mind," Boromir replied, shaking his head.

Xander chuckled. "Come on, you don't get out of it that easily. What did you mean?"

"There's a certain threat hanging over his head," Willow supplied.

"But Cordy isn't even here," he blinked. "So, how would he know she's thinking of demanding that he ask her a certain question?"

"What?" Boromir gasped.

"Xander!" Willow hushed him. "She's going to blast you if you say another word."

"No, this is slightly more interesting than Buffy's plan to kill me," Boromir laughed.

"Buffy's going to kill you?" Xander asked. "Why wasn't I told of this plan? After all, I _am_ one of the girls."

Willow laughed at the reminder. Angel and Spike laughed along with her, delighted to hear the rare sound. In this, if nothing else, they were glad that the young man was there. No one could make her forget her fears like Xander could.

"Because you, you…" she trailed off, pondering the question. "Come to think of it, why wasn't Xander told?"

"He was with Dawn, remember?" Oz said. "And we should continue to flee."

Knowing better than to try to argue with the werewolf, the group fled.

Grasping each other's arms, Faith and Aragorn made the leap across the chasm, barely making it as the stair broke underneath their feet. Giles grabbed hold of her as Legolas pulled Aragorn up. Quickly, they joined the group in the room that had a strange kind of fire burning in front of something.

Gandalf ordered them on, grabbing Willow's arm and narrowly avoiding the blow that came at him. He urgently hissed into her ear, feeling the immediacy of the moment. "What ever happens to me, do nothing to interfere."

"What?" she gasped.

"What ever happens to me must happen! **DO NOT INTERFERE**! Understand?" he shouted at her. Then he shoved her ahead of him, glad to see the slayer there. "Take her away from here, Faith. Neither of you has a place in this. **GO**!"

"Come on," Faith urged, chilled by the feel of something in the air.

Urged on by the feeling of danger, she pushed and pulled Willow along. Once they had crossed the bridge, they heard a voice command the creature to stop with absolute authority. Unable to stop themselves, they turned around to witness what was happening on the Bridge of Khazad-dum.

"**YOU SHALL NOT PASS**!" The bridge crumbled under the weight of its step and the creature fell into the chasm below. Turning, a weary smile crossed Giles' face and he made to join them

"**RUN**!" Willow screamed. Hearing what others could not-with the possible exception of the elf, the sizzle of something rising up from beneath the broken bridge.

Eyes widened in shock as something wrapped around his legs. It pulled and he slipped into the break he'd made in the rock. "Fly, you fools," he cried, his grip slipping.

The world seemed to slow for them all as a horrified scream escaped Frodo. "**GANDALF!"**

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Oh, a cliffy ending…kinda. I'll get the next part up as soon as I've gotten it written down fully. Hope you enjoyed these two parts.


	10. Welcome to My Nightmare

_Author's Thanks: Brutal2003, yeah. Xander really doesn't have much luck with magic spells, with the exception of Halloween night when he was the soldier boy. That really came in handy. Luckily, he's got Willow on his side. As for Cordy and Gunn, they get to be here to. They are all involved in the battle against Glory. **Slight spoiler**-it has to do with Wolfram and Hart and Glory getting together._

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Faith, like everyone else, stood frozen in place. Held captive by the shock and horror they had just witnessed, Gandalf had fallen into the gaping hole, to an uncertain fate. The unmistakable sounds of their pursuers coming after them finally caught her attention and she called out a warning.

Giles barked out an order and she numbly nodded, following them mechanically. Along with Gimli and Legolas, she helped the others get out of the dreary cave. Even more frightening now than it had been before for the sight kept repeating itself before them.

Aragorn wrenched Willow away from the group and pulled her to the edge. Eyes almost manic with desperation, he held her in place, though he could feel her shaking under his hands. He ignored the sounds around him, frantic to help his friend.

"**Stop him**!" he cried.

"**I can't**!" she yelled back, tears chocking her voice cold.

"**Do something**!" It was as if he hadn't heard her words. His grip tightened and she cried out in pain.

Breathing harshly, but deeply, she focused on what she could find. There was a part of her that knew this was useless. Yet, she tried to help. Stumbling back, she found a block preventing her from locating anything.

"You blew out the lower levels of this mighty cavern. With little care, you trapped a ring of immense, unspeakable power. Yet you cannot do this one simple task?" he asked. "What good are your powers if you cannot use them to save a life?"

"Don't you understand? I'm trying to but I **can't**!" She hissed as an arrow sliced her cheek as she turned to face him.

"**Aragorn**!" Boromir hollered, realizing that the ranger hadn't gone ahead of them. "**We cannot remain**!" With Frodo securely held in his arms, he followed after the mingled group.

Torn between his grief and his duty to the mission, the ranger made a decision and joined the others who fled. His hand firmly gripping her arm, he pulled her along behind him, not caring that he was being slightly rough with her. No words were exchanged as they raced ahead of the goblins and orcs trailing after them.

Silent tears coursed down her cheeks mingling with the blood from the fresh cut. It was something she found easy to ignore now. Blood and tears on her face was a familiar feeling, there was nothing new to it. It was almost…comforting to her for it caused her to focus on something other than Gandalf's horrific fall. She followed without complaint as he pushed her out into the open.

They continued to run until they could see the borders of Lorien's Golden Wood. It was there that they stopped, dropping to their knees, panting heavily. Some shed tears of grief and exhaustion. Frodo stared back at the mountains, anguish heavy on his face. Boromir comforted Gimli, knowing the dwarf blamed himself for what had happened.

Faith, Angel, Oz, Spike, and Legolas stood around the group, silent sentinels for the mourning group. Keeping steady watch, they never wavered in their self appointed task to allow the others time to grieve. They would find time for it later.

At that point, Aragorn left Willow alone and joined Giles to speak of their next move. "We cannot remain here. There is too many memories-and too much danger."

"Then we should seek safety in Lothlorien."

Giles gasped, but knew that there was logic in what Aragorn said. "I fear what Lothlorien will do to Willow. To Faith and the others, for they are not ready to deal with such purity."

"It is the safest place," Aragorn softly said.

The blue eyes closed and a nod came after a moment, bowing to the inevitable. "Then we must go there for we cannot long survive at this pace."

Giving the order, they moved on into the woods. Gimli was filled with trepidation, even though the dwarf had seen the Lady of Lothlorien and found in her nothing to fear. Yet, old superstitions had a way of circling back in one's mind and haunting them with their tales of mystery and enchantment.

And the story of the Lady of the Golden Wood who was a witch beyond compare, had no rival in its telling. Gimli whispered of the Lady to the hobbits as they walked along, not knowing what to expect in this place of mingled myth and truth.

Willow followed slowly, hurt by the anger emanating from those around her. Oh, she _knew_ it wasn't really about her. They were looking upset, scared, grieved beyond belief, and looking for someone to blame.

And who better than the _sidhe_ who should've been able to prevent this tragedy? _Goddess_, she thought wretchedly, _why could I do nothing to stop it? What is wrong with me_?

Almost without volition, she fell behind the others. Taking advantage of the fact that they were watching out for enemies to notice her. Wrapping her arms about herself tightly, she slowly found herself separated from them. Sinking to the ground, she did not feel anything.

Huddled in almost double upon herself, she stopped listening to the sounds about her. In her mind, she could only hear the vile condemnation of Aragorn's voice.

Gimli stopped walking after a bit, feeling guilty. The lass was not at fault for Gandalf's fall into the shadow and they could not blame her without taking blame themselves. They had all followed after him quite willingly.

The bearded face shook furiously when Legolas looked back, a curious expression on his face. When he continued to look, Gimli roughly explained. "I do not like the way the woods feel, that is all." It eased the dwarf's mind to know that the words spoken were a partial truth.

Doubtful though he was, Legolas let it slide and continued to walk. Though he didn't want to doubt his friend's words, there was something off about them. Keeping his mind firmly on his task, he resolved to ask Gimli about it later. Hopefully, when they were safe within the arms of Lothlorian itself.

It was important that they keep watch. Safe though these woods were for all its proximity to Mordor, many considered it safer than even Rivendell, it still remained a most dangerous and treacherous place for the foes that dwelled around it.

Once the elf had turned away, the dwarf looked around. The vague suspicion that had been growing inside was confirmed with a quick search.

The lass was gone.

Without another thought, the dwarf turned around and left.

Legolas watched the dwarf's departure in concern. He did not want to lose his friend over some unreasonable fear of the forest. The word almost caused the prince to stop, shocked at the thought.

_Friend_?

_Gimli, son of Gloin, a friend to an elf?_

And not just any elf, no, that would have been too easy for them. It was he, Legolas, the son of Thranduil, the king who dwelt underground. The son of the king of elves who had imprisoned Gimli's family so many years ago, a thing the dwarves had been needling him about since he arrived.

_His father was going to kill him_.

"Lass?" Gimli's voice was soft. It sounded kind to her ears, most unusual for the race of dwarves. "Are you quite all right?"

"I did try," she muttered, head buried in her knees. "I really did."

Tentatively resting a hand on her shoulder, Gimli awkwardly patted her shoulder. "I know you did. We all do."

"He didn't want me to interfere, said I had no part in this."

Gimli was silent. What was there to say to such a curious remark? "We best join the others."

"Why?" her voice shook with suppressed tears. "They won't notice I'm gone."

"If I were one of your friends, I would."

Sighing in surrender, knowing the dwarf was right, she rose and followed the steady sound of dwarf feet. It was reassuring. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" she asked.

"What?"

"About what you really are."

"Would you if you were me?" Gimli replied soberly.

She squeezed the dwarf's hand reassuringly. A tiny smile crossed her saddened face. "I won't tell, though I don't think Legolas would care. Deny it though he will, he thinks of himself as your friend."

Gimli snorted, but there was a smile on the ruddy face. "The feeling is more than one sided, just do not tell him I said that. The flighty elf has enough of a swelled head, he does not need me adding to it."

Willow laughed. "Oh, you two."

Legolas glanced back, hearing the laugh. There was a look of relief in his eyes that he quickly hid. Before he could say anything about the dwarf's sense of direction, an arrow whizzed by, landing in the ground at the dwarf's feet.

A cold, patrician voice spoke. "That was a warning shot. I tell you truthfully that the next one will not miss unless you tell me what a dwarf is doing in the Lothlorien woods?"

"Gimli is one of the Fellowship," Aragorn answered the voice. Though he thought he recognized it, he thought it best to be sure. "Show yourself."

"No dwarf has seen the inner sanctum of Lothlorien since the days of Celembrimbor and his dwarf friend, Narvi, visited and stayed with us. Since the Dark Days that followed, we have never allowed a dwarf to cross the borders into our forest," Haldir paused and entered the clearing.

Accompanying him were two other fair haired elves. All three were outfitted for a hit and run type of warfare. "But as you have said that he is one of your Fellowship, then we must make an exception. If he is to continue with you, he must be blindfolded."

"That is not fair," Gimli protested angrily. "I came here not to further a war between our people, but to end the one against Sauron. I should not have to go blindly. How do I know that you will not mislead me in your woods?"

Haldir remained unmoved by these words. "We would do no such thing to you. Or any of your race. Would that you treated us better."

"We return kind for kind," the dwarf heatedly began.

Willow's hand rested on the shoulder and she quietly spoke up. There was more than just a note of horror in her voice. "If Gimli is to be blindfolded, then I should to. It is not right that Gimli be singled out in such a manner."

"**NO**!" A loud, almost terrorized cry came from her friends at the proposal.

The Fellowship jumped at the sound and even Haldir and the Lothlorien elves looked startled by the cry.

"Willow, don't. Think about what this will do," Xander pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Xander." She replied, tears of terror in her voice. "You of all people know that I just can't stand by and let this happen. It's just wrong."

Gimli had the feeling that there was something unspoken in the undercurrent of their words. Something that had more to do with what had happened to Willow than what was taking place now. "Lass, you do not have to do this."

"Yes. I do," she whispered. The strength in her voice was gone, but her conviction remained steady.

Xander grasped her hand, squeezing it. He knew what it cost her to do this. "If you do it, so will I."

"We all will," Aragorn spoke in a voice that conveyed a strong conviction that this was the right move to make. "None of us should be singled out like this. If one must journey into the land blind, than so should we all."

It was all Legolas could do to remain silent as he felt the cloth binding his eyes. He wept inside at the loss he felt. For in the darkness, he could not see the beauty of the woods that surrounded him.

Yet, Gimli was his friend. Odd as that sounded, he knew now that it was true. As his friend, though he would not yet tell the dwarf so, he would not let him suffer alone.

So it was that the Fellowship and the Scoobies were led through Lothlorien, eyes bound as though they were captives. She had felt the cloth come towards her and a voice started to whisper insidiously inside her mind. The haunting chants she had buried away began to sing in her mind, reminding her of that which she had hid away from.

And though she wanted to pull back from the cloth and her memories, she could not.

_Little bag. Little rag. Likes it in the dark, when all the world's asleep, and there's none who can see her weep_.

_Little rag. Little toy. Mine to enjoy. Mine to keep, without sight and without thought_.

_Little toy. Little doll. Where ever would you to go, if ever I were to let you leave? Leave this home that's become your own_?

_Little doll. Fallen angel. Trash that you become, there's none that will see, the treasure in the dark that you've come to be_.

Willow clutched Xander's hand so tightly, he feared it would be broken before they arrived at their destination. Yet, he didn't mind. He embraced the pain. It was only a tiny thing compared to what he knew she was going through.

Of all there, he knew what she was hearing in her mind, for he'd been forced to hear it. He had been there when his best friend had been tortured. Had been robbed of her innocence and the light that she had so effortlessly carried with her all her life.

Forced to witness her striped naked and bare before hideous eyes, to save him from that fate. They did things to her that caused him to tremble with rage even to think of it.

Left with nothing to hide behind when the blows began, nothing to strengthen her save a deep and abiding love for him and her friends. He knew as no one else did that this was the true core of her power.

Trembling with every step she took, her strength faltered as remembered terror crept over her. It was all she could do to keep going but the demons within would not let her rest.

Diminishing, the elves watching her thought to themselves.

It was as if she was diminishing into herself. If terror had a look, they would describe it as the one she bore on her face as the journey into the interior continued. They understood not her fear, nor the source of it.

Another group showed up on the other side of the river and helped them across. When they saw the Fellowship walking the woods blindfolded, they scolded Haldir for his foolish actions. They were not prisoners. They were guests.

Galadriel, the Lady herself, had said that they were to come among them unmolested, for their mission was too important for old rivalries to be exhumed.

Faith, once released from the darkness, took Xander's place. "Go to Boromir," she softly ordered him. "Or Angel." It was not a request.

Once he had moved away, she wrapped an arm about Willow and guided her steps carefully as they made the ascension up into the trees. The pallor and shakiness worried her. Willow hadn't been this bad since they had left Rivendell.

Celeborn and Galadriel descended to meet them and while he spoke to them in greeting, she looked into their eyes. Into their minds to read what kind of people they were and to test their resolve.

Boromir looked away, unable to bear what he saw in her eyes. Supporting Xander now, he puzzled over Willow's behavior-though he knew the reason for it. They all knew.

Galadriel's gaze was caught by the deadened, shrivened girl's own eyes. Pain exploded with an intensity the elf queen had never known could exist in one being and she shrank away from knowing it.

Nevertheless, the horrific images of torture and violation perpetuated upon the girl followed her.

Turning to Haldir, she unleashed just a fragment of what he released in Willow's mind and he paled, trembling in reaction to it. His eyes turned towards the fragile girl and a wave of…something flowed through him. It wasn't quite pity, nor was it a feeling of awe.

"Go, until I summon you," she icily ordered. The group stepped back, fear like none experienced before them, fell upon them. Even Celeborn faltered for he was unable to see why she had reacted as she did.

Haldir left, shaken to his core.

"Do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm. It is Haldir who must be wary of me, not you for you are our guests." Her voice as she addressed them was gentle. "Please, would you tell us now, what is Gandalf's fate?"

Silence hung in the air as no one dared answer her question. Not after what they had witnessed or felt from her. This elf's power was unknown to them, unknown and dangerous. Even Faith remained silent. Brash she may have been, but she was first and foremost a survivor.

Her eyes closed for a moment, realizing what this silence meant. It was partly fear of her and what she was capable of. And partly…"He has fallen into shadow."

"It is because of the greed of dwarves that we have lost one so dear to us. Had I but known this, I would not have allowed you to be here," Celeborn said harshly, staring at Gimli as though to destroy the dwarf for what had happened to the wizard.

"It is a foolish ruler who would do such a thing," Galadriel scolded her husband. "For who among us would honestly say that if exiled from our own woods by some evil, we would not risk it all in the hopes of seeing our home once more. Nay, Lord, repent not your invitation. Gimli does not deserve the rancor you would put upon him."

And looking upon her, Gimli saw, not an ancient enemy but one who understood the dwarf's own burden of guilt. And seeing this, saw her no more as an enemy. Now, within the dwarf, a feeling of kinship and deep loyalty took hold and grew.

Bowing before her, Gimli spoke, albeit gruffly. "I repent of my thoughts and words describing you, Lady Galadriel, for you are fairer than any jewel found in all of our vast mines and brighter than mithril. From this day forth, I shall call nothing fair for to me, all things pale in comparison to you."

A smile lit her face and she raised the dwarf. "Who is it that says dwarves cannot speak poetically? For there is one who walks amongst us here this day, one that I am pleased to call elf-friend. Be at ease here, Gimli, for you are most welcome here."

Celeborn stood beside her. "Forgive my harsh words for I spoke them in grief."

For a brief second in time, Gimli hesitated before speaking. "I have no reason to forgive you, for I bear you no ill will. If our positions were reversed, who is to say that I would not have reacted the same way? Nay, Lord, I will not hold thy grief against thee."

"Then I join my wife in greeting thee as elf-friend."

Humbly, the dwarf bowed and thanked him.

Behind them, almost forgotten, Willow stood at Faith's side. Her hands raked down her arms, a litany of harsh, almost indiscernible words escaped her lips unceasingly.

Oz pulled his attention away from the elves before him, his ears picking up the words a second before he smelled the blood. Angel and Spike hissed in unison, reveling that they too smelled it. When the three heads whipped her way, Faith snapped out of her own litany of self-flagellation.

"Willow!" Her hands wrestled Willow's away from her arms, ignoring the shriek that emerged from her friend. "Boromir!" The name had barely left her lips before he was there. She helplessly struggled against her feverish friend.

The Gondorian gently, but firmly wrapped an arm about the redhead's waist. His hand stroked her hair soothingly, while the other removed one of her hands from Faith's grip.

Xander stood to the side, helplessly watching his friend relive her agony. Brown eyes glared viciously at the elves, blaming them-and Galadriel met his eyes. The sorrow there could only be pure.

Genuine.

This elf, at least, understood what had been wrought upon Willow's mind. She felt grief and accepted his wrath as part of her punishment, though she had tried to lighten the situation once she'd learned about it.

Seeing this and comprehending it, he sank against Angel, the tumultuous emotions draining out of him.

This action drew Angel's concerned gaze for Xander had always held himself aloof from the souled vampire. Even when he had needed to be carried and was unconscious, the youth had somehow held himself away from the vampire. Now, he was resting against him as though his very sanity relied upon him and Angel didn't know what to do.

Or what to make of the sudden dependency Xander sought from him.

"You are weary and ill at ease among us," Celeborn addressed Giles. "Please, our home shall be yours for as long as you need it to be. Those with wounds shall be tended to by our healers."

"Save the _sidhe_," she gently inserted her words. "Our help would only hinder her progress. I fear that they should be placed as far from us as possible, while allowing them to remain in safety."

Faith snorted, and refrained from making a comment, though it was a struggle.

Giles passed a glass to her and she held it up to Willow's lips, watching as she weakly turned her head to the side. "Hold her steady, she must get at least half of this down. Any less than that and it will do her no good." He made no comment about her action, feeling it best to say nothing in this situation. There were worse things she could've done, so he counted them fortunate that she did not.

Once the drought was down, Willow fell limp, slumping against Boromir with no more than a sigh of…something. It wasn't quite a cry of pain or relief. It was more like she was calling out a name.

Orophin, one of the healer elves, tapped Giles' shoulder. "Follow me," he softly said. A glance down at the wounded girl had him shaking his head. He could also feel a slight fever coming from one of the young men. It was not so great that he was fearful for his health, but he made a mental note of its presence.

The Scoobies-and Boromir-followed him for a while. All the trees began to blend into the came image after a while and they almost began to wish for the Moria Mines. Though dark, at least there was some distinction to be had. Faith kept a careful watch of it all, yet could not quite center herself fully.

Unlike Xander, her anger at what had happened to them all went unsaid and would not be soothed away with mere feelings. There was no excuse for what had happened to them-and she held Haldir solely accountable for Willow's regression.

Oz joined her.

She faced at him. "Don't tell me to let it go. Don't you dare."

"Wasn't going to."

"Yes. You were. It's what you do. You'll say that they are in error but that they are innocent of wrongdoing. They didn't know, so how could they be at fault?" She snarled at him, anger making her eyes snap with fire. Her hands clenched into fists that felt useless for they could not stop this hurt. They could not fix the damage done this night. "Their blind, stupid, pigheaded…stupidity has hurt us all. But it has hurt Will the most."

"I agree."

Two words that stopped her rant cold.

"But how does adding onto their error fix the wrong that has already been done?"

She glared at him, then sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "I knew you were going to do that. You always do."

"As you said, it is what I do," he shrugged. "Can't change what I am."

"I wouldn't want you to. No one else would ever have me." She said, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. "Does being right all the time ever get annoying?"

A laugh escaped him and he shook his head. "I'm not always right."

"Note, you don't deny the annoying accusation." She laughed a little as they entered the room they'd be staying in. "It's a tree house. Who is their architect? Tarzan?"

"Faith," Giles warned.

"Giles," she mimicked.

Celeborn and Galadriel watched them depart, concerned. "This is not a thing of beneficence," she murmured. Turning to the Fellowship, she addressed them, though her words were aimed at Aragorn. "Though the Ring is bound, the Fellowship hangs by a thread. A new evil is among us now. An evil I cannot see. For now, rest from your grief and your burdens for the way before you is still dark."

Aragorn graciously thanked her, slightly startled when Gimli and the four hobbits turned to follow after the Scoobies. Upon reflection, he knew that he shouldn't have been so surprised by this.

The hobbits felt responsibility for Willow and her friends. Sam had practically adopted the girl moments after meeting her. "Where are you going?"

"To see Willow," Sam replied, as though there should have been no question about it. "I think she needs to know that we are here for her."

"It was not her fault, lad," Gimli reminded him.

Aragorn bowed his head, feeling his shame for the first time. "I was rather hard on her," he admitted.

"You wish to stay near these strangers?" Celeborn asked, slightly disbelieving.

They were silent as they looked at each other and then back at him, not knowing what the others wanted. Though they hoped that they had the same desire for it seemed with their actions that they did. Still, to put it into words seemed presumptuous of them.

Legolas nodded, "I believe that I speak for all of us when I say that we do wish to be near them. Our dark days in Moria brought us closer together as friends and warriors in arms. It would not feel right to be far from them after all that we have gone through together."

"Very well," he agreed, though he privately wondered if it was safe for Willow to be around even one elf. The elf lord could also sense that something else was at work among them, even if he could not understand it.

Walking along the path they'd seen the Scoobies go down, they soon found themselves in the outer reaches of Lothlorien's sanctuary. Aragorn walked over to Boromir and knelt down, his hand lightly tracing the bandaged cheek of the girl he still held. "How is she?"

"Not well," he replied, pulling her closer to him.

"What was that?" He asked, amazed at his own temerity. Both in asking and in reaching out a hand to touch the girl he had wronged.

"What?"

Almost, he snapped at him to stop playing dumb. Then he actually looked into his eyes and studied them. The sheer lack of understanding in their depths convinced him that he truly did not know what the Ranger was asking him. "Willow's reaction to the blindfold. It was only a scrap of cloth, not enough to warrant such a reaction."

The look he gave Aragorn was pitying. "It was _not_ just a scrap of cloth, Aragorn. It is the symbol, the mark of her imprisonment. Of her loss of sight."

"Imprisoned? For what?"

"For daring to stand up and fight the forces of evil," Faith flatly said.

"What?" he gasped.

"You heard me. I don't know why you are so surprised. What? Did you think that the demon world would be ignorant of our actions? Of a strong threat to them and their dominion of the night?"

"Well, I…"

"Do you honestly think that Glory would be unaware of a potential rival in power? Glory's servants captured Willow and Xander. Both spent a long time there, enjoying their _hospitality_."

The word was spat out with enough venom, Aragorn was surprised that nothing died on the spot.

Aragorn turned to Boromir, studying him intently. This was something he could deal with, a thing that was easier to understand. The Gondorian man met his gaze unflinchingly, if a little uncomfortably. "You knew of this?"

"I was part of the rescue party," he replied.

"How long did you dwell there, in the Sunnydale?"

"Long enough," his reply was short.

"Yet, no one knew you were gone."

"They sent me back seconds after I had left." Again, his reply was terse.

The trio was silenced. "Her blindness?" Aragorn finally asked into the silence. The question went unfinished for he could not think of what else to say.

"Yes," Faith flatly said.

"How?" Again, the question fell silent and uncompleted.

Twin cold stares answered his query. "That is her story to tell."

"Of course," he murmured. His eyes closed, feeling his guilt once more. He bore part of the blame for he should never have let Gimli be treated differently. He should never have let it go as far as it did. "I do apologize for my part in this."

"That's not all you should apologize for, mate." Spike drawled from what little shadow existed in Lothlorian. Strangely enough, his arms were wrapped about himself as if he was trying to ward off something.

Faith's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you do?"

"Seems the future king here holds our Will completely responsible for Gandalf's fall," he drawled. "And he left her to find her way through this poisonous place alone, full knowing how it must have been hurting."

"What?"

"Don't, slayer. We did the same thing," Angel's voice cut into the anger simmering within her. "So alert to the danger around us, we forgot the danger to one of our own."

"Save for Gimli," Boromir contradicted him. "He noticed and returned for her."

"How is she?" Sam asked, staring at her limp form.

"Isn't that the sixty-four thousand dollar question?" Xander snapped. Seeing the hurt flash in the hobbit's eyes, he sighed. "I'm sorry. Willow isn't doing so good. Giles had to drug her so badly; she's completely restrained by the medicine in her veins. Oz and Giles are ready for her."

Boromir followed him into the room where the two _daemons_ waited for her. Giles looked up and nodded at them, focused on her. "I wish we had lower grounds for this, though this is far enough out of reach, we should be fine. Faith, don't do anything rash. We can ill afford to alienate what little allies we've found here."

It was a clear warning.

One which Faith bowed to with a tight nod, even though letting this offense go went against her instincts. With an expansive shrug, she let go any plans for revenge. For the moment at least, not that she'd let either of the _daemons_ know that.

"Come along, I'll teach you a game of chance," she offered the three hobbits. Though she wished to include Sam, she knew better than to try. The gardener had adopted Willow, seeming to know better than they did her needs. Though it would disgust her if she had but known it, she echoed Aragorn's thoughts.

Boromir looked over at her, horrified as a thought crossed his mind. "Faith, do not teach them poker. That is a game that they can do without."

"I know that," she rolled her eyes. "What kind of fool do you think I am? Don't answer that," she quickly added, seeing his mouth open. "That game is more to the taste of dwarves, and perhaps an elf named Legolas."

Aragorn followed Boromir and stayed with him, concerned for his state of mind. They had all been examined by the Lady Galadriel and she did not leave anyone unmarked in some way. "It was not your fault."

"Willow is one I love as my sister," he sighed. "Yet, I did not notice when she fell behind."

"Gandalf put me in charge. The responsibility is upon my shoulders. I failed in that for I nearly lost Frodo. He is with us now because of you."

The two men stood in silence, just staring out over Lothlorian and observing the night's stillness. Finally, Aragorn stepped back. "At least we can rest in safety. There is no safer place than the Golden Wood."

His companion laughed mirthlessly. "You might be able to rest easily in this place, but I never will. I hear her voice in my mind, telling me of Gondor's fall. Of my father's failing grasp on reality and our people's diseased souls for they are so full of lethargy, they do not care for Mordor's threats. But that is not the worst of it, for these things I am well aware of."

"What is it then?"

Boromir's anguished brown eyes met the steady gray of Aragorn's, forcing the other man to accept the reality of what he was to hear. To face the reality of how much it pained this man before him.

As for Boromir, he failed to recognize the lack of censure in the compassionate eyes. It had always been there, so he did not expect any differently. "I saw my brother Faramir fall into the shadow by the Nazgul's hand. If I were to get the Ring, I would save him."

"The Ring cannot give you that promise."

"It would lead the Nazgul to me and my brother would be spared of their poison. That is all I care about," he said.

Aragorn studied him, pondering what words he should speak. "You would die."

"Faramir has always been the better man. If by my death, he would live, I would give it several times over."

"You really mean that."

It wasn't a question. Boromir answered as if it had been one anyway. "Without hesitation, as he would for me. Would you not do the same for the ones you love?"

Aragorn gave the question some thought. "I would give my life if in so doing, another lives," he said. "But I would not touch the Ring, though it calls to me as it calls to all."

Though there was curiosity in his eyes, he did not press him for details. That silence forced the words to come spilling forth. Once he started to speak, Aragorn found that he could not silence his tongue.

Nor did he want to. "I hear it telling me to take It. To do with It what my ancestor, Isildur, could not. That I and I alone could destroy it and prove that I am the better man because I turned away from Its temptations. It is a temptation to try for I feel the sting of his failure haunt me," he ended.

He dropped to the ground once the words had left him lest his shaking legs betray him to this man. Oddly enough, he found comfort in hearing the words spoken at last. His fears, given form through sound, seemed to become as still as a breeze and disappear from conscious recognition.

Boromir rested his hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Yet, he did not speak any words. There was nothing to say. The Ring was getting stronger, that much was obvious to them all. No matter the spell that held it captive, It was growing in power and reach.

Soon It would overcome that which bound it and stilled its tongue.


	11. You Look Vaguely Familiar

_Author's Note: This is the missing chapter._

_Author's Thanks: Brutal2003. Thanks. Yup, you get to find out (kinda) what happened to them, though I will leave much of it up to the imagination. It was during her captivity that she was rendered blind. Really hope you don't mind all these long pauses between postings, I've been working on it but RL and other stories have taken up my time._

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Faith led the hobbits away and sat down, legs swinging over the edge of the ledge. "So, what do you do for fun?"

"Fun?" Pippin repeated, as though he did not understand the word. Most likely, due to the circumstances of their journey, he did not. Or rather, he had forgotten. Sitting down beside her, he looked up for clarification.

"Something you do to lose the boredom," she said.

"Ah!" Merry smiled, sitting by her other side. Reaching into his pack, he removed a pouch and pipe. "Smoke. Drink. Tell stories. Have a party. That sort of thing."

"Though I do not think that it is appropriate to speak of those things now. Gandalf has fallen into shadow. He is no longer with us," Frodo softly observed.

She glanced over at him, "Would he want you to bury yourself in grief?" Her head shook as she answered her question. "No. I do not think that Gandalf is the type to dwell in such unhappiness and misery. I believe that he would want you to celebrate his life. While you might grieve for he was loved by you, you shouldn't allow it to swamp you."

When no answer was forthcoming, she knew she was right. Faith wouldn't push her point with Frodo any longer. The hobbit had lost a dearest friend, he would mourn in whatever manner seemed most fitting to him. Who was she to tell him that he was wrong?

Looking out over the white trees into the deep, starlit sky, she breathed deeply and relaxed. Though she was far from comfortable in this place of light, the slayer found that she was able to relax into the moment.

"The first two things, I can handle. Easily. Telling a tale, I doubt I know any that are appropriate for your ears," she paused, sighing as she slipped into a more comfortable role for her. Living in the moment had always been her thing. "The party is also beyond my abilities to provide."

Soon enough, the four were blowing smoke rings into the air, though hers were small and didn't last half as long as the others. Merry and Pippin regaled her with tales of Gandalf and the Shire. In the intervening hours of the night, she learned much about them that made her want to protect the innocence in the lives for their sake, not just because she was a Slayer.

It had become personal to her. This war was no longer just something she was involved in because she wanted to get home. What they were, the innocence they represented was something she wanted to keep safe. To shelter and let it continue to grow in the peace that they had always known in their beloved Shire, a peace she had never known but had always desired for herself.

Angel and Spike stood unnoticed in the background, quietly conversing. "It took us so long to reclaim her. Then that snobbish, pointy eared git came along and shot all of our hard work to Hell."

"Haldir was just doing his job." Angel dispassionately observed, though the words left a vile taste in his mouth. The idea of defending the elf when he had hurt one of his friends-his family-left him shaking with rage, though he knew he was right to do so.

"Oh, shut up. You feel the same way I do, don't bother to deny it, Angel. It's disgusting, this act of yours," he glared at the elder vampire, daring him to contradict him.

"Whether I do or do not is not the point, Spike," he mildly rebuked. "These trees have ears and we are their guests. We should not be harsh in our words towards them."

"Angel, Red is our own," he hotly contested, facing him fully. "We protect our own. Or, at least, I do. Which, may I remind you, was one of the things that you taught me. Even you can't be that ashamed of that particular teaching of Angelus'. I ought to find that elf and teach him a lesson or two."

"You will do no such thing, William." The tone in his voice brooked no argument. "I will not have you rushing in and overstepping them bounds of decency. Think for once, if you can bring yourself to do so. We need them."

"Are we let to let this offense go unavenged?"

"Do not make me restrain you," he warned, more than a little bite to his words. "I will have your word on that which you honor most that the only retribution you seek will be taken out upon the evil we find, not on Haldir."

"But," he started, angry at how ineffectual he sounded.

"Your word, William."

The two vampires locked gazes before Spike snarled and bowed his head. "You have it."

"Say it."

"I will harm only the evil forces, Haldir's life and sanity will be safe from me," he spat out the words viciously. With them, Angel had to be content.

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Sam watched quietly as the two _daemons_ tended to Willow's visible hurts. His tender heart winced as she shrank away from their loving touches. He hurt for her, an ache burned that nothing could appease within him.

"We saved Xander," Oz quietly said. "How soon can we leave for Gondor?"

"Gondor?" Giles asked, shocked at the idea. "I do not believe that Gondor is the place for us to go right now. The Eye of Sauron watches it, thinking that the Ring will be there. He waits for It to arrive."

"Then where? We can't go back to Rivendell even if the mines weren't blocked. And we can't stay here, I feel sickened by the lack of balance here. Is there any place safe?"

Giles contemplated the question, bothered by the reference Oz made to feeling sick. He had known there was a chance that they'd all feel it, but hoped that it wouldn't happen for a few days. They really needed this time to rest and recuperate. And he still wasn't sure what to do about the Fellowship and their journey. He knew that Aragorn was expecting them to continue to travel together.

But that just wasn't feasible. Shaking off his thoughts, he turned to answer Oz. "I believe that we may have a chance in Rohan, even with Saruman turning to darkness."

"Gandalf," Sam chocked on the name and paused to regain him composure. "Gandalf said that Theoden King is not well. That he might be paying tribute to Mordor."

"That can't be true. I know the people of Rohan," he exclaimed, disbelieving. "I must write to the king's son, Theodred. If anyone knows how things truly are, he will."

Lost on a world of misery, Willow lay motionless between their hands. Every once in while, she twitched away from their continuous touches. Mostly, though, she lay there and shivered in reaction to the slightest thing. Wave upon wave of painful memory crashed down upon her, dragging her under the waves with its strong undertow.

_If I don't move, she thought, they will go away. They always get bored if I do not react_. _The words circled her mind as a mantra that kept her sane_.

_What felt like a blow to her solar plexus had her biting back a gasp of pain. Fresh blood from her torn and bitten lip dripped down to mingle with the other fluids that decorated her clothes in bright, dullness and a pungent fragrance_.

"_Little rag, little rag." A new voice taunted. "We never said you could close you eyes_."

_Thick fingers grasped them and pulled them open, shoving his hideous features into her sight. Bloodshot eyes in a swollen face with blackened teeth and a slash across his cheek revealed a whitish cheekbone, stared down at her. His awful breath chocking her_.

_She screamed and jerked back. This one was new to her. This one had intelligence in its eyes. Cowering away, she winced at the sound of raucous laughter_.

Failed. Again, she miserably thought. An endlessly, repeated cycle of failure. She didn't know why it hurt. It was all she was good for anyway.

Giles sighed. "That's all I can do. The rest is up to her."

Oz nodded, rising. "I shall let the gang know."

"Not yet," he stopped him. "She isn't ready for visitors. Give her a little while. I should see about that letter before more time goes by. We need to have a plan; we can't just keep going off helter skelter and hope to land on our feet. We've been lucky so far, Oz, but that luck can't hold out for much longer."

"I'll watch her," he offered, dropping back down to the ground.

"Thank you," he rose and wearily walked away. As he retraced his steps, he became aware of a presence beside him. Glancing up, he was shocked to see Haldir with him, a curiously hesitant look on the haughty face. "What?"

"The redhead," he hesitantly spoke. "How is she?"

"Lost in a darkness we barely managed to save her from before," Giles snapped.

"I was doing my job and protecting our borders."

"From what threat?" he demanded. "Orcs and goblins would've been killed immediately had they trespassed. I cannot believe that Lady Galadriel didn't inform you that there was a dwarf within the Fellowship. You aren't stupid, don't act like I am."

Haldir did not try to say more in his defense. Giles would not listen to him. He would not be lectured by one who did not have authority over him. It did not even matter that he had not heard of the Fellowship until that day. He knew the truth, he was in error here.

Besides, Giles was now asking him something. Perhaps he should listen and find out what it was before he gave him an even worse opinion of him than he already had.

"…is Celeborn?"

"In the library," he replied, hoping that he'd guessed right. "It is this way." Moving off to the right, he ascended into the canopy. As he did so, he wondered if Giles would follow him. He wondered what he would do if he did not.

After a moment's debate, the watcher walked up after him.

"Lord Celeborn, Master Giles wishes to speak with you," he said as he pushed aside the filmy curtain that separated the hall from the library.

Celeborn looked up from his place and nodded. "Have you been to see the Lady, Haldir?"

"I have not, my lord." He informed him, bowing humbly.

"Then you had best hasten your steps. She wishes to speak to you before the night is over," he advised him.

"I shall join her immediately," he left.

Pushing aside the book he'd been studying, he rose and walked to Giles, gesturing for him to join him inside. "Please, come inside. I assure you that I am quite harmless," he half added, trying to ease the tension.

It fell flat.

"Harmless is not something I associate with elves." He replied, entering the room and letting the curtain fall behind him.

"An excellent point," he murmured, watching him. Although he seemed to be less hostile than his companions, Celeborn was not going to take him on his appearance alone. While he did not have his wife's gift for reading people, he did have an ability to read what kind of people they were by simple observation.

Watching as Giles looked about and his gaze lingered lovingly on the books, he decided that he was, by nature, a calm and peace loving man. "Would you care to have a seat? I prefer to do my business sitting down. It seems to be less hostile that way."

"Thank you," he said. Following him over to the window, they sat down on the seat carved into the tree. A thick cushion rested along the bark behind him, cushioning his back against it.

"What can I do for you?"

"What do you know of the situation in Rohan?" he asked.

"Only what I have been told, and there is little enough knowledge about it that it might not do you any good. Gandalf had heard from one of his sources that the Rohirrim pay tribute in horses to Sauron. Theoden is under the influence of one Grima Wormtongue."

Giles cursed harshly, startling him.

"You know of this man?"

"Not much of a man if you ask me," he acidly replied. "He is a craven liar. A cunning serpent that lies in wait and strikes a fatal blow of fear into the hearts of those he dwells near. There is poison in that tongue of his that has been carefully cultivated over the years to do the most damage. Subtle is his art and twisted is his nature. Yes, I've heard much about him."

"He is the king's main advisor, the voice he listens to above all else. But that is not as troublesome as the fact that the Northern Men have been restless, they have been moving southward and destroying all that lies in their path. It is a quest for conquest-and they do not seem desirous to halt their movements. Rather, they sit back and watch it all happen from their Golden Hall."

"It seems to me that if Wormtongue is advising the king, then the events are related."

"Is it important for you to go?"

"I feel that the atmosphere there will be better for Willow," he explained. "Lovely as your land is, it is not the best place for any of us really. You don't seem that surprised."

"The Lord of Rivendell thought it best to warn us.'

"He did?"

"I believe he thought it best since you may pass through our lands at some point. How are the rest of you faring?"

"Other than being angry, they are as well as can be expected. One of our group, Xander, has been through a difficult time. The wounds he sustained in the Mines of Moria are beyond our feeble aid to heal."

"Shall I send our healers to you?" he began to ask, then thought better of it. "Why do you not have him come to us? Though we have kept our distance from your _sidhe_, we are still in our lands. This may still prove to be harmful to her."

"Her name's Willow," he spoke sharply. "I don't want her to be referred to by a label. She would not refer to you as an elf."

"Very well," he conceded. "Do you wish to write to someone in Rohan? Is there anyone there who knows you still? It has been sometime since you have walked amongst us."

"Is Theodred still alive?" he asked.

"Theoden's son? I believe that he is, though I had heard that he has suffered terrible injuries while fighting some orcs on patrol."

"I became acquainted with him in my earlier years," he replied. "We became excellent friends. I shall write to him, see how he is. Hopefully, he remembers our scatter speak and will reply. If he is not there, then no harm shall come from the writing. We agreed that only we two should know it, though he might've taught Eowyn. If I remember correctly, she had a fine memory for such things while he had a hard time retaining it."

"You may use whatever you find on the desk. We have many courier birds for use. I do not think that they will accept a message from an elf. Not only do they not know that many things about us but it will seem suspicious to any spying eye if a Lothlorian elf were to travel through the Lands of the Riddermark."

"Thank you, Lord Celeborn." Rising and approaching the desk, he gathered the items together before sitting down. Deep in thought, he cast his mind back a few years to his time here and pulled up the old language.

This letter would be difficult to write for he hadn't seen Theodred in a while. For all he knew, the jovial man with the slight picky tendencies and suspicious nature had given into it fully. And as these were not the best of times, he could ill afford to upset the man.

Finally, he decided to try one of their older, more tricksterish messages. If Theodred responded to it favorably, then he would know that there were friends waiting in Rohan for them. Friends who would greet them and keep them safe from harm until they had all had a chance to regroup and figure out what to do next.

If not…Giles refused to finish that thought. It was unthinkable at the moment.

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Xander sat alone on the edge of the platform. His eyes stared sightlessly at the scene before him as he waited for Giles to return. His left hand clutched into a tight fist, cutting into his not yet healed palm.

Blood dripped through his fingers, lightly staining the board beneath him.

A perverse feeling of satisfaction filled him at the sight of it. Though small, he had managed to mar the perfection of their world, just a little bit with the touch of humanity it had been lacking. The pain it caused him did not matter. As easily as breathing, he could ignore the pain. These things had become second nature to them all.

"For what it is worth, I am sorry for the pain we have caused your _sidhe_, your friend."

Xander didn't even look up at the Lady of the Woods. "Her name is Willow," he dully commented. "And I believe you."

Galadriel approached and sat down beside him, noting him flinch. "You are weary and badly hurt. Why have your wounds not been treated?"

Sighing in resignation to the idea of having a conversation, he turned towards her and met her gaze evenly, with no evasion. Of them all, he felt no fear of her and what she would see in his mind. Let her see what she would, he had nothing to hide.

"There was no need at the time," he honestly replied. "I have been seen to before, thus my wounds are not as grievous as they could be."

But his answer was murmured for he was studying her dress intently. It seemed to him that there was a luminescent quality about it he had never seen before. He wondered if such a garment would help Willow. Even if she could no longer see the light, may be feeling it would bring her back to them.

The Lady knew what was on his mind. "It is not possible."

"Why?" he asked, almost belligerently.

"We no longer have the ability," she softly told him. At his disbelieving look, she shook her head and asked. "Why do you find this so hard to believe?"

"I have heard that you are the fairest and the wisest of all the races in Middle-Earth. Why do you think that I don't believe you?"

She contemplated his question. "Our feud with the dwarves has taken a toll on our ability to give freely. That level of love is rare. It is hard to achieve a pure love that would sacrifice all for another. To weave this kind of garment, one weaves with starlight and moonlight itself. Starlight is illusive, ephemeral. It is hard to hold onto when there is discord within for it burns and stings those whose hearts are full of discontent."

"My Lady," Haldir tentatively began. He had come down when he heard her voice murmuring and saw them sitting there. It hadn't taken him even a second to recognize the young man sitting with his queen.

"Will you excuse me?" Galadriel asked.

Xander faced the elf, but there was no fury in his eyes, just a bottomless well of tiredness and pain. "Haldir," he greeted and introduced himself. "Xander Harris."

"Master Harris," he returned the greeting warily, surprised by it.

"Xander," he corrected absently. Pushing himself to his feet, he retraced his steps and paused, turning back to face them. "Willow would say that you are not at fault. She's generous like that. Though it's hard for me to say this, she's right. Stop beating yourself up over it. You were doing what you had been trained to do all your life."

"Thank you," he faintly said, surprised at the understanding within the young man's voice.

"Don't thank me," he replied in a hoarse whisper. With no further sound, he slipped to the ground, unconscious.

Haldir knelt beside him, resting his hand on his forehead. "He is burning up."

"Do you require anything?" Galadriel asked, watching him as he stripped off the outer layer of Xander's grimy clothes. Her nose wrinkled up slightly as the sickly smell of infection wafted by in the air.

"Perhaps we should send for Lord Elrond. He may be beyond our capabilities," he answered. Making a thorough examination of the open sores, he shook his head. "He has had some treatment for these wounds. Many have been cleared with Lord Elrond's own medicines. It has not been enough for him."

"Very well," she walked away.

Haldir knew it was to summon Lord Elrond. If not to ask him to come, then to ask for his counsel on how best to treat Xander. He just hoped that he was not making a mistake in asking for him to come. Two elves of the authority of Galadriel and Elrond may be more harmful than beneficial.

Taking care, he lifted the man into his arms and made his way to a pool of clean water. It was distressingly easy to carry him and the elf worried over it. Cautiously, he lowered the semi-clothed body into the water and peeled the rest of the clothes away. Gasping, he turned away from the sight of the extensive damage wrought upon him for a moment.

His stomach roiled about and wanted to be set free from confinement. But he resisted.

It was neither the time nor the place. After a moment, he composed himself and returned to the distasteful task before him. Thankfully, the pool of water was warm and carried away much of the dirt and blood that he so carefully removed from Xander's body.

"Lady Galadriel sent me to assist you."

Haldir nodded absently, letting his sensitive hands clean the body. Once he knew for sure what he required, he turned to the female elf hovering in the background, telling her what was necessary to heal him. "And bring some loose clothing," he added as she turned away. "The last thing he needs is something restrictive."

Picking up the clothes, she turned to leave. "I will have these burned." She held the clothes away from her, not liking the coarse feel of them. Or the inelegance of them.

"Don't," Xander faintly protested. The whispery sound of his word startled them and they glanced at each other before looking down into his half-opened eyes. Within their earthy brown was a desperate need as they focused on the clothes.

"Why?" Haldir asked, though it was most unwise to press the young man at the moment.

"Present from Buffy and Willow," he softly replied. "Please, don't," he repeated before his eyes gave up the battle to remain open and shut once again.

Exchanging another glance, they were silent before Haldir nodded. "See if they can be cleaned. I doubt that they shall ever be fixed. The damage is to extensive."

Though her nose wrinkled up in distaste, she nodded and left.

By the time Haldir was done, the water was blackened with dirt, blood, and excrement that had yet to be swept away by the tide. The elf was thankful to be done, though deeply concerned with everything the cleansing had revealed.

The damage was widespread and vindictive. Crisscrossing scars. Deep bruises. Tiny pinpricks from burrowing bugs. Haldir could only shake his head in disgust at the sight.

Hearing footsteps, he turned to see her return with her arms full of supplies. Placing them to the side, she stood at Xander's right. Together, they lifted the weakened, semi-emaciated man from the water. Using warmed towels, they gently rubbed him down until he was dry and warmer.

Dressing him was a bit of a difficult task as his body wasn't fit for the clothes. But they finally had him covered. Picking up a brush, she started to comb out the tangled hair, facing Haldir after a moment. "What are these?"

He glanced at it and sighed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He should have expected to see it. "Lice. Humans are known to get them from time to time. I will take care of them."

"How do you know how to do these things?" she asked, after listening to his directions.

"Lord Elrond," he replied. "There was a time when I traveled with Aragorn. Knowing of humans and their peculiar plagues, Lord Elrond thought it best to prepare me for any eventuality."

"Are we in danger from them?"

"No. Our body chemistry is different, they could not adapt," he said. His hands found what they were looking for before he picked up the comb and began to search for the nits within the dark hair. "Hand me the scissors. Some of these knots must go."

"How is he?" Galadriel asked walking into the room where they had moved him once they had finished with most of the major cleaning and bandaging. Her careful eye studied the young man and noticed that his appearance had improved. He looked much more healthy and comfortable.

Was it merely the accumulation of dirt and grime that had made him look so ill? She shook her head slightly, knowing it for the foolish thought it was.

"Now that he is clean and the lice have been temporarily dealt with, he is in much better shape than I had originally judged him to be in. Of course, I do think that he should be seen by Lord Elrond."

"He will come as soon as he is able to," she told him. "Haldir, come with me."

Rising from the bedside, he followed her out.

The female elf left behind studied the young man curiously. To her eyes, she saw nothing remarkable about him like one saw with Aragorn. Or even Lord Boromir. There was nothing distinctive about him.

And yet…he exuded something that those two men did not.

With a shrug, she covered him and replaced their supplies before leaving him. She figured that no harm would come to him if she left him alone for a few minutes. Clearing her throat, she waited outside the library for permission to enter. Once it was granted, she peered inside and found who she was looking for. "Master Giles, Master Harris is ready to be taken to your dwelling place."

"Thank you," he murmured, startled at the mention of Xander. What could have happened to him? Following her, he looked about curiously and enviously. What a wondrous place to spend time in. Time in which to relax, to rest. To read and not worry about what was to come on the morrow. It was not that he resented Willow's pressing need, but he'd heard much about Lothlorien and wished to see more of it than the fringes.

Yet, he could not.

All things around him spoke of undeniable beauty and serenity. How he wished that his family and comrades could enjoy it as it was meant to be enjoyed. It was an impossible hope, but it was one he could not suppress.

They were his own and he wished them nothing but the best.

"Giles."

"Angel," he returned the terse greeting. "How?"

"Haldir says that he is doing much better," the elf replied for the vampire.

"Excuse me for asking," Giles pointedly asked, "but who are you?"

If she was shamed by the attitude, it did not show on her face. "Forgive my lack of manners, I am Halissa, sister of Haldir."

"Oh, yes. Haldir, our **_generous_** guide." There was a slur on the word that Angel could not stop, even had he wanted to.

She did not even flinch at the sound. It was something she had been expecting after all they had been through. "Haldir is an excellent warrior, if a trifle overanxious to fulfill what he perceives to be his duty."

"Halissa," he quietly said as he entered the room. "Though I thank you for the defense, it is not necessary. I was in the wrong and will do my best to rectify my error."

"You think you can, mate?"

He met the blue eyes evenly. "I believe that there is only one who can truly forgive me and she lies in sickness. A sickness that I caused by my actions. You may take Master Harris with you. Lord Elrond will soon be here to aid him in ways that I am not equipped to."

The night passed in relative peace, Willow and Xander rested from their hurts.

The hobbits slept off to the side, Frodo's rest was broken occasionally by a soft cry of distress. Faith and Oz spoke quietly on the far side while Angel and Spike sat in silence, neither willing to break it. Giles sat with Sam, who was staring guiltily at Willow.

"We did her no favors, expecting more from her than she could rightly give, did we?"

"No. Unfortunately, she is all to used to it."

"She should not be," he argued. "No one should."

Giles studied him. "How do you feel?"

"Better than her last…illness for she has not latched onto me," he spoke bitterly. "I wish that she had. That she would do so now. This is killing her!" His hand reached out and held hers as gently as possible.

Willow shuddered, pulling away as though shocked.

Sam looked helplessly over at Giles, who could only gaze back at him, looking as lost as he did. Both continued their vigil long into the night in silence.

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Frodo awakened, no longer able to ignore what was happening in his dreams. As he looked around, he wondered what could be bringing them into being. He had not had such dreams since the Ring had been bound. By binding the Ring, Willow had stopped his nightmares.

Yet, as impossible as it seemed, Frodo knew that it was the Ring.

It seemed to sense that something drew near. Without thought, he picked it up and walked out of their sleeping quarters. He saw Boromir and Aragorn and stopped, hesitating on his next move. His desire to talk with Aragorn warred with his mistrust of Boromir.

"Frodo," Aragorn called, startling the young hobbit. "Is something wrong?"

When he did not answer immediately, Boromir stood and stretched. "I will leave you two to speak in peace."

"Please," Frodo spoke in a halting, nervous voice. "Stay."

"Are you sure?" he asked, hesitating. Well did Boromir know of Frodo's desire to have as little to do with him as possible. He knew that it had to do with his words about the Ring, for he did not realize that they had to be said. "You are worried and in need of private counsel with a friend. I do not wish to intrude."

"Yes," he replied, still in that shaky voice. "It is not your presence that causes my hesitation in speaking. It is the Ring."

"It has been growing stronger," Aragorn sighed. "It is as we feared. The closer the Ring draws to Mordor and Its Master, the stronger It becomes."

"Than I am not imagining it," he said, relieved. Then the relief fled. "If It is regaining strength, the Eye of Sauron will find us, will it not? Guided to our position by the Ring?"

"He will," the answer was swift and positive in its coming. "Our journey has become even more precarious for the awakening."

"Why do we not ask Willow to destroy It?" The question burst from the hobbit before he could stop it, not that he wanted to. This was something that he had often wondered about and had not been able to come up with a plausible reason that she could not do it.

Both looked to Boromir for the answer and he sighed. A sigh that resonated with deep regret and fear. "You may ask her if she even returns to us. But I do not think her answer is one that will bring you much joy or contentment."

"What do you mean?"

Boromir looked at them. "How much weight will a spider's web carry before it breaks under the strain?"

"I do not understand," Frodo said after thinking over the question, though he tried.

Aragorn's eyes were sad as he comprehended the truth behind the question. "I do."

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"They call me Gunn. Where did you say I was?" he gasped.

A whistle shattered the air instead of a reply. Taking that as a signal, the knife was dropped and the soldier moved back. "One false move and I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand." The warning was low and full of confident intent.

"Gunn? That is a most unusual name. One quite unknown to these parts." A young man, who appeared to be not much older than Gunn himself was, stepped out from behind the trees. Tossing aside the cloak that concealed him from sight, he walked closer to them, keeping a wary eye on him. "What do you mean when you say they?"

Though young, he had an air of easy authority and walked with firm purpose. Gunn decided that he could easily like this stranger. As the man walked closer, he studied him, noting that he was studied in return.

Gunn had the oddest feeling that he should recognize this man. There was a certain something…familiar about him.

"My friends. It's my last name," he said. When he saw the blank expression stare back at him, he elaborated reluctantly. "My first name is Charles. I find it to be a rather pompous name for the kind of work I'm called to do."

"What kind of work is that?" he asked. As he spoke, he circled the man, taking in his strange clothes with a faintly disapproving look on his face.

Gunn bristled at the implication behind the look but forced himself to remain calm. He knew better than to try to take on an unknown in a world he had no experience with. He'd learned that lesson back on Pylea.

A lesson he was not eager to repeat.

"I fight the forces of evil," he hesitated to say more. After all, explaining that he was from another world to this man might not be a wise idea. For one thing, he might just think he was crazy. For another, how would he prove it? He didn't even know how he got here in the first place, though he was pretty sure he could track it to Glory.

"Evil?" he asked skeptically. "With what weapons?"

"I did not know that I was to come here," he snapped. It was the eyes he recognized. The same fire, the same spirit burned in them. A fire he'd seen in the eyes of another man, a man who looked a lot like this-and not just because they had the same large nose. "So I did not bring any. I do not always carry weapons, you know. To many chances for awkward questions to be asked, questions that have not easy answer. You're Faramir, aren't you? Boromir's much loved younger brother."

"How do you know that?" he asked, suspicious. Approaching, he stared him in the eyes, long and hard. As if to see into the very mind and soul of this stranger, this man who dared to claim knowledge of his brother. Though he knew it was probably not wise, he stood before him, weaponless.

"Let's just say, he's a friend of mine," he paused, debating for a moment on whether or not to risk mentioning her. Deciding that he would take the chance, he finished with a decisive, "and Willow's." He knew he'd make the right choice when the man went pale.

In the farthest corner of Gunn's mind, he wondered why it was that the mere mention of her name got so many people's attention-and so quickly. Even strangers reacted to it. He wondered why that would be so.

"Sir, should I shoot him?" The soldier with them asked, staring at Gunn with angry, narrowed eyes. Her captain's reaction to the name caused her defenses to rise and make a swift choice about what to do. Fingering the bow, she pulled it taut but held it, awaiting his word.

"No," he whispered after a moment, shaken. _Boromir spoke words of truth_, he thought numbly. _Every word he spoke to me of this strange place he had visited for so many days that they blended into one long cycle of time was the pure and simple truth_. _Forgive my skeptical belief, my brother_.

"No," he spoke more firmly, finding his voice. "My brother knows this man. He is from a place in the West that is newly born. Come with me, Master Gunn."

"It's just Gunn, sir," he corrected.

"Yes, of course. My brother mentioned that your society is very informal compared to our own. Very young," he mused softly. The two men walked along in silence for a bit, ignored for the most part by the men with them, and then Faramir hesitated as they approached a hidden fork in the forest road.

"What is it?" he demanded, knowing that it wasn't going to be something he was going to like. But he could tell from the reluctance of this man that he felt uncomfortable about doing this.

"I need to blindfold you for a bit," he spoke tentatively. "We are going towards one of our secret hide-outs."

Gunn's hand rose. "Say no more, I know where you're going with this. Go ahead. If I was in your position-and make no mistake, I have been-I would do the same." Once blindfolded, they continued to walk for a bit.

He heard the sound of a waterfall and felt a few drops of water hit him before they entered somewhere cool. There was a slight echo to their footsteps and Gunn realized that they were in a cave. The farther into it they walked, the more a faint feeling of claustrophobia pressed upon him.

He wondered how Fred and Cordelia were doing. A thought struck him and he nearly stopped, startled by it. Could it be possible that they were here? In this place that they called Ithilian, should he mention it to Faramir and ask him to search for them?

If they were here, they would be as ill prepared to face these men as he was. They would need all the help they could get. Did this man trust him enough to listen?

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_Author's Note: That thing about the noses, the actors who played Boromir and Faramir both pointed it out. Well, Sean Bean mentioned that they looked alot alike-and not just their noses. When they told the actor who played Faramir that, he said that yes, he supposed that they did have big noses. It's on the extra features from the extended DVD._


	12. I Think I'm Going To Like This Place

_Author's Note: Changed Ilis to Idis, explanation is in the last chapter. Hopefully, the missing chapter explained a few things. If not, let me know and I'll be happy to clarify it. Things just might not make sense b/c I haven't gotten around to explaining them yet as they weren't important at the time._

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While Gunn was being taken towards the retreat of Faramir and his men, Cordelia stood in front of the man on the throne. Her glance swept around the austere room dismissively. It did not look like it should for a city under siege. She couldn't understand why anyone would have so little preparation when there was darkness about them.

Darkness she could feel breathing in the air about her.

"What are you? Some kind of pretend king?" she taunted him, her defensive system kicking in. For her to stand there, buffeted by both the waves of evil and accept it, did not appeal to her.

Besides, this man was being extremely rude to her. The way he just sat there, ignoring her this way, irked her. It didn't matter to her that she was not dressed for the room she was in, he should not treat her dismissively. She knew exactly who she was.

And no pompous, pretentious jerk was going to get away with treating her as less than the lady she was.

"I happen to be Denethor, Steward of Gondor. It is you who are the pretender here for I have never heard of such a place as Pylia," he sneered.

"Found your voice at last, have you, little man? How marvelous of you," she drawled, her eyebrow raised scornfully. "You say that you are Denethor, a Steward of Gondor? Yet, you act more like a child playing in his father's things. I see nothing here that gives you the right to sit on your butt while your people are in danger."

"People are always in danger in these dark times. We are involved in a minor war to reclaim a part of our city," he pointed out, stung into a reply.

"Did I mention that I was a seer?" she asked coldly. "I'm pretty sure that I did-and the danger I refer to is not from outside forces. It is from your own pathetic and useless attempts to be something that you are not. You are a pretentious panderer who wastes what true capacity he has in a base attempt to seek that which is not your own. It is you that the true danger to Gondor comes from, not the orcs who ravage the city."

"**HOW DARE YOU**!" he bellowed, standing abruptly. Robes billowed out as he stalked towards her, rage making every step he took sound harsh in the cavernous room. Eyes blazing with fury, he stared at her, towering over her by mere inches.

"No," she calmly refuted, looking him squarely in the eyes. Her eyes icy and her face seemed to be carved in stone. They glittered with a strange authority in the dim light of the room as she met his challenge squarely.

"How dare you, so called Steward of Gondor? You who are from the noblest of houses and trusted by the king himself, given the title of Steward to watch over the city and protect it to the best of your abilities. You were charged to watch and guide the city in his absence as your forefathers have done, not seek to attain it as your own. You were not given leave to hand it over to Sauron, nor to seek his Ring for your own profit. How dare you try to take that which is not your own? This is not your throne, nor is this your city."

Denethor stumbled back, struck by the venom in her voice. The sheer weight of her claims of who and what she was, what he was supposed to be, threw him off balance, and then he regained his footing. He would not be made a fool of in his own city. Especially by some delusional harlot pretending to be a queen of some principality that did not exist, he would know if it had for he knew many things that were hidden to those of his household.

He would not allow this crazy female to run roughshod over him as though he was only a schoolboy and she was the master of the castle. "You have no right to speak to me in such a manner. Guards!"

Knowing that they would not disobey his orders, he started back towards his seat. This strange vixen with her haughty manners and flimsy clothes was dismissed from his mind as he thought about other things. Namely, what he would see in the Palantir today.

They came forward, ready to grab this outlandish woman with her cold eyes and proud attitude, when she turned and faced them. "I would not do that if I were you." The tone of her voice, so very regal and otherworldly, stopped them cold.

It was not the voice she had used before.

"Denthor, you are right in one respect. As Cordelia, I do not. But I am not Cordelia," she said, facing Denethor once more. "I am Beren, who recovered a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown and father to the line of the first kings in Gondor. You have abused your position as the Steward of this fair city. Guards!"

Her face betrayed none of the shock to be revealed. Nor did it show the fear that the woman felt now. This was the composed seer doing service to a long ago king. One who still loved his city, his people.

"You will remove him from here. Take him to the dungeons. Send in Beregone, I must see about my cities defenses."

"You cannot do this!" he shouted, incensed by her deliberate defiance. By his guards standing still in shock, staring between the two of them. "What proof have we that you are who you claim to be?"

"_Et Earello Endorenna utulien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Amber-metta_!" The woman said, intoning the ancient words of the Numenorians. It was an ancient vow, from a time far into the past. So far, many did not remember the language, only the words of the vow of the King.

They stared at her, disbelieving wonder on their faces, knowing this truly was Beren. Who else but he would dare to speak the words of the Numenorian Kings? Denethor trembled in rage, but what could he do? With a few words, this alien had stripped him of his rank and power.

Power that rightly belonged to the one he was protecting the kingdom for.

"Now, take him and go." It was a clear dismissal. Words had power and she exercised them with authority. Within moments, the stranger who had suddenly appeared in their midst took control of Gondor. She approached the throne and stared down at Denethor until he moved to where she had once been standing.

Not knowing what else to do, they bowed and took Denethor by the arms. "Sorry, my lord, but the king commands it." One of the soldiers said as they marched him out of the room and into the hall. It never occurred to them that what they were doing by obeying the commands of the strange woman was slightly unorthodox.

Words or not, it was not the king who commanded them. Rather, it was a queen who knew what to say and how to say it. Still, Gondorians had always been ruled by the men in the family, never the female, to follow her, they had broken with tradition.

It didn't occur to Denethor to point that out, though. He was still in shock. As he was marched along, he could only move along in silence, wondering how this would affect the fate of his country.

And how it would affect the outcome of the war with Sauron.

654321

Fred found her way into the kitchen and looked about her. "It's rather small," she doubtfully said.

"I know," Wesley said from behind her. He ignored the way she jumped in surprise, but smiled apologetically at her. "But it is enough for the needs that Connor and I have in this world. We only need to stay long enough to find our way into the middle dimensions of the magical breach. From there, we should be able to track Willow."

"Why Willow? Why not any of the others?" she asked, curious.

Shifting Connor in his arms, he started preparing a bottle. As he heated it up, he pondered how best to answer the question he'd been asked. It was a tricky one, for it would reveal that he knew of Willow's true heritage, while the others had remained in ignorance. That he had not thought to tell them the truth about her, something they had yelled at Buffy about when they realized the truth about Dawn.

Not to mention, it would also reveal how much danger she was in.

"I'll take him," Buffy said, reaching out for the boy. Passing him over, Wesley watched as she settled him, somewhat uncomfortably at first, into her arms. Once Connor looked comfortable, he handed over the warmed bottle. "Well?"

"Its because she's a _sidhe_, isn't it?" Lindsey asked, turning away from the window. The look of distaste on his face was quickly concealed.

Nevertheless, it was plainly obvious that he didn't like the house or this place. It brought up painful reminders of a past that he felt was best forgotten. "And a _sidhe_ is easier to track magically than a _daemon_, because of their demi-god status. Right, Wesley?"

"That is correct," he reluctantly agreed with him. "Willow is mostly made of magic, she is a pure conduit of it. A _daemon_ is merely a protector of the _sidhe_. While they have magic, it is not as strong as a _sidhe_."

Buffy's eyes closed, her face scrunched up for a moment in thought-and a brief flash of anger crossed her face before it was let go. She would not point out their hypocrisy in condemning her for something they had so obviously done, though there was a little desire within to do so.

But she knew that there was just no point to it. Plus, there were more important things to think over. Like Willow and her born of magic heritage and what it meant to them all. How it would change everything for them.

It made sense that Willow would be made of magic; spells had always come to her so easily. Part of her felt the heavy burden of guilt she'd carried for so long lift off of her shoulders. A deep well of relief filled her as she realized that she wasn't entirely to blame for what happened to her friend.

And she hated that feeling of freedom.

The feeling of being free from the part she felt she played in the events surrounding what had happened. Shoving her thoughts to the side, she focused on the matter at hand. This was something she could work through, something she could handle.

It was better this way. "That's why they went after her, isn't it? Xander and she weren't randomly chosen as victims. Glory's people went after her specifically because they saw her as a rival to their goddess, not because she's my friend."

"Yes," he answered, watching her warily. Inside, he couldn't figure out what to do.

Torn between comforting her and concern for the boy who was in charge. When the Slayer felt something deeply, the whole world did to. As a watcher, her feeling and well-being were his priority.

As a father, Connor was.

"I can feel her pain, Wesley," she sighed, answering his unspoken query. "Something bad's happened and she needs me. Willow needs me and I'm stuck here!"

"Then help her," he advised, still watching her. As much as he wanted to, he knew that he couldn't move from his spot. "You know what to do." Gratefully, he noticed the way Fred had moved to subtly stand beside her. The presence of a girl who had a similar temperament to Willow would not startle Buffy. Hopefully, it would do more good than harm.

"You're right. I do. Here, Fred, take Connor. I need to do that meditation thing Will and I practiced a lot of." With no further explanation, she handed him over and walked off, stepping out into the mid-morning light.

Under a shady tree, she slipped down into the lotus position and closed her eyes.

After a moment, she started to breath as deeply as she dared. Though she knew deeper breaths were necessary for a true meditative stance, this world was still unknown to her. It was still a place full of unknown dangers that could be potentially hazardous to her safety.

Giles may have chosen it, but that was before Glory had come into their lives and started messing around with them.

"Will she be okay?" Fred asked quietly, rocking Connor in her arms. The bottle had been finished and put aside.

Wesley sighed, pulled off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His eyes never left Buffy's still form. "In all honesty, I cannot answer that. The deciding factor in all of this is Buffy herself-and she doesn't trust herself enough to let it happen."

"You guys should've told her the truth about Willow," Lindsey commented, sitting down and leaning back. With his hands supporting his head, he stared at Wesley, a slightly condemning look in them. "I doubt she would be taking it so hard now."

Wesley's returned look was one of pure scathing, as were his words. "If you believe that then you must know a different Buffy Summers than the rest of us do. In all the time I spent with her I learned one thing, when it is her family, it is personal. It means something to her, it _counts_. And the truth of her family has nothing to do with it."

Opening his mouth, he stopped and thought better of it. After all, he had studied the slayer and her friends extensively. It was something that his old employers thought would do them all some good.

They had been right. To know one's enemy was the best defense against them, though they had rarely succeeded in defeating them permanently. Sure, they had some victories but mostly defeats. It was one of the reasons he'd left the law firm. He'd never reveal what the other was.

Wesley was right in this as well. Telling her wouldn't have made a difference. It would've made this whole situation that much more explosive for she would've been aware of her friend's power.

"And, MacDonald, this problem is more than just about Willow," he sharply added, regaining his attention. "You downgrade the situation by making it that one dimensional. I had expected better of you. Really, I really had. Buffy's world is crumbling around her and she can't do a thing to stop it.

"For a slayer to be rendered helpless, it is the worst nightmare they can experience. It is far worse than going through the Cruciamentum. As long as she stays focused, stays angry, stays grounded in the love of family and friends, she focuses on things she can change. If she were to allow herself to relax, she wouldn't be able to function as the slayer properly. It isn't her way."

In tense silence, the trio turned and stared out at the girl under the tree. All of them wholly aware that upon her only to human, to fragile shoulders, their safety rested in her ability to do what she must. It was she who must preserve their lives and save not only their world, but this one as well.

It was an uncomfortable thought.

654321

Xander slept deeply, until he felt a touch on his shoulder. It was not harsh or disrupting enough to jolt him to awareness and he allowed himself to slowly awaken.

"_Young man, I have an urgent message for you. Be so kind as to join me for it is vital to the survival of us all._" The voice was one of the sweetest he'd ever heard and he felt compelled to obey it.

His eyes blinked open, though he felt as though he was still inside of a dream. "_Who are you?_" he whispered, studying the lady before him.

This woman stood tall and straight, much like the Lady Galadriel. Though her dark eyes seemed much older, much sadder than the Lothlorian queen's had. They told a tale of untold sorrow and he felt a deep compassion for her. She had long, dark hair pulled away from her face, exposing to his eyes the beauty of her face. _A woman of moonlight and stardust_, he thought, _not of the morning and sunlight as Galadriel was_.

Her manner of dress was similar to the dress of the queen, though it seemed to have a more delicate air. This woman, this elf, was from another time, an older time, and he read the ages in her eyes easily. A sorrow born of knowledge lay in the depths of those eyes and he knew that in her, he had found an understanding soul.

"_I am Luthien, the one who can help you heal your friend._"

She alone, of all the elves, seemed to truly know what human grief was. Though he had seen an understanding friend in Lady Galadriel, this Lady Luthien had experienced the grief of mortality. It was written in her depthless eyes.

"_Me?_" he scoffed, shaking his head. "_Forgive my disbelief, my lady, but what can I do? I am but a mortal man. You have me confused with Buffy and Faith. Even Cordelia has a special talent ordained unto her by the powers that be. I have no special powers or strengths. I am just Xander Harris, ordinary human man_."

"_And therein lies your greatest strength. You are strong because you only desire to help others. Within your soul is a great deal of love, a literal well spring of it, if you will. You seek not power for your own gain, nor do you wish to have any other than what is required to save those that you love_."

"_But the Lady said that the elves have lost that ability,_" he protested, pushing himself into an upright position. He felt odd to be resting in her presence, although she knew of his true injuries. "_I have never possessed any magical abilities like your people. How would I weave starlight?_"

"_It is not starlight you will be weaving, my dear boy. Galadriel is quite correct in that you need a very pure love to do so. While you may have that within you, you do not have the time to do so. Instead, you will be using a much stronger aid. That which we call elano,_" she explained with a gentle smile. Reaching out a hand, she helped him to rise and move beside her. They walked to a clear pool of shimmering water.

"_Elano?_" he repeated, head tilted as he listened to her reply.

Her hand gestured for him to look and he saw a small fountain in the clearing. In the shinning light, it glistened with a pure, white fire that he had never seen before. For a moment, his eyes closed against the pain the light brought to him.

Luthian did not say anything for a moment, granting him time to adjust to the change. In the stillness, by that gentle spring, she reexamined him and found that she was correct in her beliefs. This man would not abuse the gift he was being given.

"_Yes_," she said elaborating when he looked to her once again._ "Elano is a much more powerful force for healing than starlight. For it alone, of all the elements in our world, contains that which truly heals. It carries the seven elements from the Undying Lands. A land of many legends and names in your time, I believe you know it as Avalon. But no mere being can weave them_."

"_Then I have failed before I have begun for I **am** a mere being_."

"_How little the understanding of mortals minds to what true strength is. True strength lies not in magic spells or weapons crafted in forges, it lies in the hearts of those who help others asking for nothing in return. It lies in the strength of love. You have said that you believe that your friend's true power is in her love for friends_," she said.

"_Not believe, my lady. I know for I have seen it_." There was no doubt in his voice. He knew what he spoke of, he knew her. Why doubt what you knew as truth?

"_Then you must understand this, Alexander Harris. You must understand and believe what I say to you now_." She held his eyes for a moment, keeping his gaze hostage with her own. He had to realize this before they could go any further for elano was delicate and could be transformed with the slightest doubt or misconstrued thought. "_That is also where yours resides, my friend_._ No, you do not have the power to knock down walls or throw lightening about, but yours is the greater ability. Yours is the harder burden to bear and you bear it well. Never fear for your place within the circle for they need you. You are the one that keeps them going when their strength fails for yours does not._"

Xander was silent for a time, thinking over her words. This was not the first time he'd heard such a statement. And he knew it wouldn't be the last. It was his heart that had helped them access the power of the first slayer.

It was his heart that helped him know when to push and when to step back. To be there for his friends in the end, even when he believed that what they were doing was wrong. That he had no real place in the battle they were fighting. But to think of it as his special power, his gift that he brought to the Scoobies?

Was that not going a bit to far?

After reflecting upon it some more, he didn't think it would be arrogant of him to say no to his own question. He knew what she was saying to him. Some people had gifts that were in their muscles or in the words they spoke. If his meant that he believed in his friends and was there for them even when no one else would be, then he was fine with that.

"_What must I do?_" he asked, letting go of his fear and doubt. This was for Willow, his best friend. If he could not put aside his own thoughts and doubts about himself for her, then she was truly lost. He knew that he would do anything for her as she would for him.

In this, it was enough.

She smiled, a smile that shone brightly down upon him. A loving smile which gave him strength and firmed his own resolve even as it bathed his soul in light. "_You call the elano to you. If you are ready, it will head your call_."

"_I'm still not sure I understand how it will help me weave Willow back together_."

"_Elano is a creator. It brings life into the lifeless. It heals that which seems impossible to heal. With it, one can light the very stars that are over our heads. All things that live have a touch of elano within. Your Willow carries within her soul elano, it is that which shattered when you were both captured and tortured. But it has not been destroyed. Her soul is bound to the elano. That pool over there is her life force. It is from there that you must draw the elano to heal her_."

Glancing at the pool, he noticed the way that it rippled. It roiled with a turmoil that would not be stilled. "_I thought you said that the water must be still in order for elano to be called and pulled free_?"

"_In most cases, that would be truth. But this is what is happening within the one you are going to heal. It will not be easy_," she warned.

"_But it has to be done_," he finished. "_What must I do_?"

"_Reach within and find the sacred elements of life. They and they alone will guide you. I may only stand by and guard you. I can do no more. This is your task. Yours alone_," she ended, with a little sigh of regret.

"_Very well_," he closed his eyes and pulled up all the memories he could of anything he'd learned from Amy, Willow, and Giles on the nature of magic and creation. It was hard, pushing through the fog that clouded him but he persevered.

He had to. This was for Willow.

From somewhere within, he heard something speak to him. It spoke so faintly that he couldn't quite hear it and when he tried to chase it, it fled away. Forcing himself to relax, he let it come to him in its own time and at its own pace.

Concentrating harder when it returned, he waited. He listened with his heart and his mind, for it was the only way he knew how.

"_Earth, mud of birth;  
Air, free to breathe;  
Fire, spark of life;  
Water, sap to grow;  
Life, fruit of soil;  
LightDark, stars and space;  
Mystery, now and always_."

Hearing the words unlocked something within him and he turned towards the lake. With a purposeful stride, he entered the chill water and dived beneath the surface. Into the murky darkness he swam until sudden bursts of light startled him.

Flashes of Willow's life flash all around him and he followed them, remembering them fondly for they told his story as well. Taking care, he chose to bind the memories together with the pure love he felt for his friend.

He chose to bind his life to hers.

From somewhere else, he felt another's presence. It did not impede his progress, merely sought to aid him. From the feel, he knew that it was Buffy. Together, they restored that which was stolen from Willow.

Together, they returned her to herself.

654321

Two days passed before Lord Elrond arrived with a stranger. At least, he appeared to be a stranger to the elves who saw him. In appearance, he resembled Giles, though he was much younger than the man they knew.

When Oz saw him, he thought about gathering the gang and changed his mind, going down to meet him. It would be best if he took him to where they were staying. Waving to the elves, he let them know that he'd take care of him and that he was no threat. "Hey," he greeted, gesturing for him to follow him into the alcove where the others waited.

"Hello, Oz. How are…" he started to say more when the others noticed him standing there.

"Wesley!" Giles exclaimed, shocked to see him. His shock fled as a thought occurred to him. "Glory hasn't sent you here with Connor, has she?" Was his immediate question and it sounded more worried than anything he'd said previously.

"No. Gunn and Cordelia are here though," he quickly explained. "Rupert, I haven't got a lot of time but we are in Albion. Glory's looking for the Key and…" his voice trailed off as he turned a sickly green. "That explains a lot." His voice was faint as he stared at them, unable to pull his gaze away from them.

"What?" he snapped.

"Buffy's anger," he whispered, eyes focused on where Willow and Xander rested. Feeling their questioning looks on him, he looked up and quickly elaborated. "Willow and she have connected. I don't know if its because of their friendship or if it's the Slayer within-but she is fully aware of this. You must wake Willow somehow and find Dawn."

"Dawn?" Faith asked, tensing. "Isn't she with you?" The question came even though the answer was obviously a firm no.

"No. And she isn't with Glory, I checked," he answered it anyway. It relieved him to be focusing on something other than how awful the pair looked. About what he would have to tell Buffy when he got home, she was not going to be pleased.

"Giles, before Willow passed out, she said something. What was it?" Faith desperately spoke, hoping for something to work with here. She had known that there was something screwy with things. Everything felt off-and she wasn't just thinking about how different this whole planet seemed to be to Earth.

"I…I don't know," he said, unable to think.

Wesley gasped, shocked. There was a pull backwards and he knew he had go. As he faded, he desperately said to them, "I'll see what I can find out about her from here. I hope that I will be able to find the knowledge you need to save her. Next window, I'll try to get closer to you so that there won't be so much time lost."

"Luck," Oz said, his eyes fastened on Willow. Suddenly, her situation looked much worse than before. His wolf and _daemon_ eyes picked up on what both Giles and Wesley saw, there was a leeching of Willow's strength. He only wished that he could follow it to the source, find the stealer and shut it off before it killed her. Or worse.

But that was beyond his meager abilities. Though knowing what he was, he didn't know how to access the fullness of his capabilities.

Spike entered, demon picking up on their fear instantly. "What?" he asked. "They aren't worse, are they?"

"Dawn's not with Buffy," Faith bluntly informed him.

"Bloody 'ell," he cursed.

"Who is Dawn?" Celeborn asked, looking around at them. He could feel the place crawling with their fear and uncertainty. Whoever this Dawn was, the fact that she was not among them seemed to be more than a little troublesome to the group.

"The Key," Giles tiredly said. "If Glory get her hands on her, life as we know it will cease."

"This must be the danger Lady Galadriel spoke of. Where is this girl? This Key?" he asked, trying not to let his thoughts show. It was something of a battle for he was enraged at the thought of such a dangerous person walking about their land. What if Sauron found her and figured out what she was? Where would that leave them?

"Wish we knew," Faith said with a shrug. "Only one who knows is Will-and she's not in the talking mood."

Only Oz could see the way she reigned in her temper and her tongue. He knew how much it was costing her to still her own inclinations for the sake of peace.

Later, when they were alone, she vented. Loudly, colorfully, and violently.

The Ring glistened in the night, gleefully feasting upon the redhead's latent power. It was a heady sensation, this feeling of being fully empowered once again. It was amazingly new and revitalizing, something that It had not felt in ages, since being parted from His Master all those years ago.

She had weakened her guard and He latched onto it with all His strength. At long last, after such a long drought, It was being fed as It should have been as It waited in silence for the time to come again.

And through Him, His One, His Own, His True Master, was coming back.

654321

In Gondor, resting after a hard day of labor, Cordelia tossed and turned on the bed. There was a restless feeling in the room. She felt swamped by the heat of the night as it pressed down upon her body.

It imprisoned her in a physical cage of discomfort. A discomfort that wasn't alleviated by the breeze that blew in through the large, open window-then the mental torture began to rain down upon her.

Images of a perfect city, a giant wave of water hurtling at her from an unknown source, a cave in the darkness where something breathed evilly, of a fallen warrior she felt she knew, of a burning mountain in the distance, of an Eye smoldering with a fierce and somewhat immortal fire, filled her mind. They spoke menacingly to her, bringing up memories that she did not know as her own.

But it was the sight of the Golden Ring, fiery hot letters blazing in the night, wrapping rapaciously around a familiar form that had her sitting up, a scream pouring out of her lips in agonizing ecstasy.

"_WILLOW!_"

654321

"Saruman," the voice spoke from the orb in the darkened throne room.

The White Wizard immediately put down his work and turned to face the palantir. "My lord," he said, rising to bow before the orb. "What do you require of this faithful, humble servant of yours?"

"There are strangers in our world," Sauron informed him impassively.

"Strangers?" he queried. "How could that be? I have heard nothing of them."

A very physical hand grasped his shoulder and flung him to the side. "Do you presume to mock what I know to be truth?" he hissed, voice low with repressed intent. There was a smirk on his face as he enjoyed this position of power.

Saruman stared up at the Maia who now stood in Isengard. A being that had not been in a physical body in centuries. Sauron, the darkest of the Dark Lords stood before him. Once more he had put on a body of living flesh. Towering above him effortlessly was a man of indescribable power…and a beauty unlike that of the Maia he once was. A beauty unlike any of the Maia possessed.

For, true to the tales of the elder days, he bore a beauty akin to the elves.

"Forgive me, my lord," he murmured. Bowing close to the ground, he closed his mind against the implications of the knowing look Sauron was giving him. "It was most foolish of me to disbelieve you."

"I just might find it in me to do so," he reflected after a moment of thought. As much as he loved to make his followers squirm, he knew which ones to keep close, to show forgiveness to. And this one still had his uses. There was no reason to get rid of him.

Yet.

Sauron remained where he was for a little bit before he approached the dark throne and, flinging out his cape, he sat down. "Very nice. I plan to stay here for a bit. King Angmar is doing quite nicely with my campaign in the East. You on the other hand…" he trailed off, letting the silence speak for him.

"Theoden and his people are proving most resilient to all of my efforts, my lord. They are not easy to persuade to bow before you."

"Then do not **_persuade_** them," he said in a hard voice. "I have no use for recalcitrant slaves. Destroy them completely. They are, after all, only mortal beings with a limited life span, hardly worth a moments consideration."

"Yes, my lord." Saruman rose and walked towards the door, shaken but with enough sense to keep facing Sauron.

"Saruman?"

"My lord?" He instantly stopped moving, tilting his head up but keeping it bowed deferentially at him.

"The Ring is mine. I alone am Its Master. I will no longer tolerate your independent search for It. Should It come into your hands and you do not tell me immediately, you shall know the true meaning of terror."

Saruman nodded and practically fled his home, frightened by how the tables had turned upon him so completely. This was exactly as Gandalf had predicted, though he doubted that his old friend had known that Sauron would regain his corporeal self.

He was puzzled by it himself. Without the Ring's return, such a thing should have been impossible. How had this implausible action come to be?

654321

The first thing Faramir and his men noticed was the frantic work being done on the outer wall and around the city doors. Men were digging trenches and clearing out debris. A new fortification was being erected near the Eastern Wall.

The second was the sizable contingent of men drilling within the city walls. He had never seen such a gathering in all of his years, though he had heard of them. It was a sight that did his weary soul good. A bit of his lost hope started to return as he looked over the men and found that they were good.

The third was the sight of the young women practicing with the bow. Though they had a few women with them, all of them had come from Rohan. These women he saw were definitely of Gondorian descent.

"Beregond," the young captain asked, keeping his voice as calm as he could. It was not easy for he felt more than a little baffled by what he saw. His home did not look the same as it had when they left and it felt strange. "What is going on here?" He gestured around him, eyes lingering on the women.

"It is on the orders of our new ruler," he answered, adding nothing else.

"New ruler?" he gasped. "What happened to my father? Is Boromir all right? What are you not saying?"

"What Beregond has not been able to tell you," a cool, feminine voice said from the doorway to their left, "is that I have reclaimed my descendant's kingdom. Your father has proven to be a less than satisfactory steward for Gondor. Therefore, I have removed him from his position. He now sits in the dungeons on charges of treason against Gondor's best interests."

Whipping their heads about, the group was met with the sight of a determined looking, dark haired lady. She could be nothing less, Faramir thought; her bearing was to noble to be anything less. "What do you mean with these words? Are you the lost heir?" he asked.

"Untie Gunn," she ordered, addressing him in the Numenorian tongue. "I am Beren, this you should well know for you have foreseen my return since long before the strange events brought you to Gunn's side."

They stopped their actions and stared at her in utter disbelief. Faramir found it hard to believe it-even after hearing her words. His mouth hung open, unable to think of a thing to say and he heard the workmen in the background replacing old and worn stones.

The incongruity of the mundane with this extra-ordinary happening kept him spellbound.

"Not in the actual flesh," she unbent enough to say, in an attempt to alleviate their disbelief of the whole situation. "Nonetheless, I am who I claim to be." Unsheathing the sword at her side, she approached Gunn. With a brisk flick of her wrist, she cut the ropes holding him captive.

Rubbing his wrists, he gapped at her. "Cordelia?" She looked so different to him, dressed as she was in the more sober colored clothes of this place. Her dark hair was pulled severely back, exposing her face and the tight look in her eyes.

A look he knew all to well.

There was a more ancient feel about her. A new dignity was lent to her in the way she held herself. As beautiful as she looked in this elegant simplicity, there was also an unreality about her that let him accept the truth of her words.

"Is this because you are a seer?" he asked, avoiding contractions.

"It is. As a conduit of powerful visions, she is an ideal vessel for possession. I had to move quickly before Sauron realized what he had in her." She sighed, shaking her head in regret. "Unfortunately, while I saved Mistress Chase, I was to late. He has found another to siphon life from."

"Willow," Gunn grasped the implications of that instantly. "Do you know where she is?"

Cordelia's head nodded.

"Tell me, please," he added, knowing how touchy some spirits could be.

"In a place to the West called Lothlorien."

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_Author's Note: Elano, as well as the recitation in Xander's mind, is from T. A. Barron's book, "The Tree of Avalon, Child of the Dark Prophecy, Book One." I thought it worked well for the situation they have with Willow. The words spoken/chanted by Cordelia are from RotK. Translated they say, "Out of the Great Sea to Middle-Earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, until the ending of the world."_


	13. Here I Am, Where Are You?

Hearing all the gasps that happened at the mention of the name, Gunn went on guard. "Is this place dangerous?"

"Many are the tales of Lothlorien," Faramir whispered to him. "And they all say the same thing. That no who enters leaves it the same. It changes you in some indefinable way."

Though chilled by the prospect, Gunn knew what he had to do. For him, there was no other choice. "I have to go if that is where the gang is. You've told me of this Sauron. Willow is a powerful worker of magic. He would benefit greatly from continued exposure to her."

"He already has. Sauron has taken on mortal flesh again. He bears a beauty like none other and a voice of silver pleasure. The Ring must be freed from Its prison for that is what ties the three of them together."

The man nodded. "Which way?"

"I shall take you, if it pleases my king," Faramir offered.

"You may go," for a moment the faltered and the serene calm was broken. "Gunn?"

"Cordy?" he instantly replied.

"Be wary, Sauron has sent his forces to find us." She hesitated before adding a firm warning. "And Faith's upset."

"Upset?" he asked, rubbing his head. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this. "Why?" he inquired anyway.

"Willow's regressed," she simply said, giving him a significant look.

"I'm gone," he turned on his heel and started off.

"Gunn?" Faramir called after him. "Do you ride?"

"Horses?" he asked. At the nod, he groaned. "Only if I can't avoid it."

"It would be faster," Cordelia pointed out, Beren fully in control again.

"Then I guess that I can ride," he reluctantly followed them to the stables where two horses waited patiently, already packed for the trip. Glancing over at her suspiciously, he knew that he was right in his belief that she had known that this was going to happen.

"Good luck," she called after them. "Now, about those doors…when did you say the dwarves would arrive? I would like those doors before Sauron decides to invade again."

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Buffy paced restlessly, feeling more and more liked a caged animal. Her mind and body refused to relax, to let go and rest even for a moment. Within her, she felt aflame. It burned, this tie she had with Willow. A tie she had willingly agreed to silently years ago when they became friends. It smoldered like a fire in her veins. An unquenchable flame that nothing could ease, she welcomed the pain it gave her.

"Wesley, we've got to do something. NOW!" she slammed the table into a wall.

"Calm yourself. I'm working as fast as I can," he snapped. "Back off!"

She sat down, arms crossing her chest and she glared at nothing. Silence descended upon them, an uncomfortable one that they had not experienced in years. Finally, she let out a harsh breath, stood up and began to pace once more. "Sorry, Wes," she contritely said. "It's just that my family is in danger and far away from me. I feel like I'm being shredded with every minute that passes-and I can't stop it!"

"I understand your anxiety because I share it," he stood up and touched her shoulder gently. "But you must understand me when I say that I am not exactly the best man for this job. I haven't got a tenth of Giles' abilities, nor the research capabilities of Oz, nor the combination that Willow possesses. This I promise you, I am doing the best that I can with the knowledge that I possess."

She startled him when she threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. Not tight enough to hurt him though, just enough to let him know that she needed him. "I know," she cried. "But I'm scared. They've gone and I can't help but think that I won't see them again."

"Well," Lindsey drawled, "you could always give the Key."

Blue eyes leveled glared at him. "If I were to do that, I would send you along. Gift wrapped and free of charge."

"Just trying to point a reasonable solution."

"Reasonable or self-serving?" she asked acidly. "Because if that's your definition of reason, I'd hate to see your definition of stupid. Oh, wait, I'm looking at it."

Fred burst in, clutching Connor tightly in her arms. "Whether you're ready to go or not, we'd better go. Glory's here."

"What?" Wesley gasped, staring at her in alarm. "Do we have everything?" Was his next question, his training by Giles kicking in.

Buffy pulled back and grabbed one of the kits they had prepared, while Lindsey grabbed the other. Wesley started to chant, hoping it would work. He was still a newcomer to this magic after all and had only minimal experience with successful spells.

Conjuring up something like this was quite a leap from elementary magic. Dimensional portals were not his thing, though he understood the mechanics of them. All of the watchers were taught something of their nature and design.

Still, learning about it was one thing. Actually doing these spells was another. If he got it wrong, he'd kill them.

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Eowyn stormed into the open air, watching as her brother rode away. Her hand covered her eyes, shielding them from the wind, though it did little to stop the sting of the tears that came. For a moment, she thought she saw him turn towards her and give a wave.

Alone, she was truly alone now. The only ally she had in the world was riding away, leaving her to deal with Wormtongue on her own. What could he be thinking, to leave her with no word of good-bye?

Hearing a bird's cry, she descended from the stairs quickly. It could only be from her brother, bidding her farewell in the only way he safely could. Upon freeing the message and turning the bird over to the warren, she unrolled it and read it.

A puzzled frown crossed her features before a gasp escaped her and was stolen away by the wind. Rushing up the stairs again, she almost missed Wormtongue's form. Barely pausing to do more than nod, she entered the Golden Hall and went to where Theodred lay in sickness.

Sitting on the bed, she grasped his hand and squeezed it, letting him know that she was here for him. Mindful of ever listening ears, she talked of inane things and held the note, hidden from sight by their clasped hands. She knew that no one else could decipher the message.

Still, she felt the need to keep it secret, to keep it safe. It was from someone she had only ever heard about, though she knew that Theodred admired the man and counted him among his friends.

"So concerned over your kinsman, he will surely recover under such care," a voice oozed false compassion from the doorway. "How devoted and loving you are, Lady Eowyn. You even missed your brother's departure from Rohan. Such a pity seeing as how you do not know if you will ever see him again."

"I shall when he returns," she stoically replied, hardening her heart against him. As always, this man with his words and voice had a way of piercing her armor. Eowyn was determined not to let it happen this time.

"Very confident of Lord Eomer's abilities to survive what foes he may meet out there, though you see the proof before you that even the greatest of warriors may come to grief in battle," he said as he drew near to her.

Her frozen eyes turned to meet his, unflinching in their resolve. It unnerved her when he used his physical presence to bully her. As always, she did not let it show. She could not allow herself to show weakness in front of this creature, he already had more power over her than she liked. "Then I shall see him in the halls of our fathers. I do not need to see him in the flesh in order to have him near me always."

"How commendable of you," he mocked her. "But such a futile hope, my lady. Have you not noticed how dark this world has become? How empty the words you speak at night, alone, while your bower closes about you, locking you within its walls? A trapped and trammeled wild spirit that longs for more than tending to a dying man on his bier and an aged king, more than ready for the grave?"

"The words you speak are nothing more than poisonous lies," she spoke, glancing over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"My Lord Wormtongue, the king desires your presence. There is a visitor," the man wavered before saying the rest of his message. "The visitor is most insistent upon seeing the king. He has refused to leave."

"You cannot stop one man?" Wormtongue began to sneer, loading his voice with as much hidden venom as he could manage.

"Not when this man was sent to us by the White Wizard in Isengard," the man hurriedly said. "It would not do to throw him out."

"What?" Wormtongue moved away from Eowyn and approached him. "Are you sure of this? Never mind, take me to see him. Lady Eowyn, I look forward to continuing our conversation."

"I do not," she whispered after him. After a few minutes had ticked by, she rose, glanced down the hallway, and shut the door once she was sure they were alone. It would not do if one of his spies overheard what she had to read to Theodred. Sitting back down, she contemplated the letter again, before speaking.

"Theodred, I do not know if you can hear me but I have a message for you. Shall I read it or tell you what it says?"

Silence was the reply.

Eowyn nodded anyway. "That is what I thought you would say. But you really are not in any condition to read Ripper's letter and reply to it yourself."

The man groaned a little, as if invoking the name helped him. His lashes fluttered for a breathless moment before settling again.

She sagged, defeated, before straightening her shoulders and carrying on. Her tone was deliberately hopeful. "He wishes to know of our true condition, whether or not we are loyal to Sauron. There have been various rumors that we pay tribute to Mordor and serve him. He must know this because he seeks aid from us for his charge, a young woman named Willow."

Speaking the name had felt odd on her tongue and she needed a moment to compose herself. So caught up in her thoughts that she almost missed his faint, "Why?"

Startled, she looked at him. "Theodred?" she whispered, eyes flying up to see him staring at her intently.

"Why?" he repeated, weakly gesturing to the letter she still held. "Here?"

"Ripper says it is not safe where they are," she replied, all the while knowing she should tell someone that he was awake. If she did not, his situation could only worsen.

"Write," he coughed. "Tell."

"I will," she promised, rising to her feet. "Right now I need to get the healer."

"Stay," he grasped her hand weakly. "Need to see you." The words were spoken so shakily and very faintly but the desperation behind them gave them ponderous weight.

Yielding to his wishes against her better judgment, she poured him some water and helped him drink it. "Theodred, what happened? They say Eomer lead you into an ambush. That he betrayed you to the Wild Men."

"No," he denied as firmly as he could. "I wanted to go. He did not. Where?" His question was cut off by a series of violent coughs and shakes.

"Eomer has been banished," she softly replied, wiping off his sweaty brow. Her voice shook with repressed venom. "Wormtongue made uncle send him away today. That snake got him declared dead in the king's eyes. Theodred, things have not been well here. Uncle is not who he used to be. Wormtongue has been sending away so many loyal men and women. The town is nearly deserted because of him. Those remain are lost in despair."

"Why?"

"He has a firm hold on Theoden," she sank down beside the bed, resting her head next to his side. In her hand, she clutched his tightly. "He is not the same man anymore…he no longer knows any of us!"

His free hand reached over and rested on her head softly, reassuring her. "Not going to make it, 'Wyn."

"I know," she looked at him, eyes shiny with unshed tears. Tears she refused to let fall while in his presence. She knew she had to be strong for him, to make his passing easier for him.

"Protect him," he pleadingly asked.

"With my life," she vowed. 'I shall not be parted from him."

"Ripper," he started, his words slurring even more.

"I shall write and warn him," she soothed. "Your friend will not walk into a trap."

"'Wyn," he whispered, "Sorry."

His last words chocked her but she held onto her composure, forcing the tears to become ice. "You have nothing to be sorry for, my dearest. Rest well with out fathers. Rest in their arms for you have earned your place among them," she stared at him, letting him go.

With a gurgled, rattling breath, Theodred closed his eyes a final time. His hand slipped off her head and lay on the bed's edge limply. Even then, Eowyn would not let her sorrow show. She rose and went to the door, softly calling one of the guards.

"Inform Theoden King that his son, Theodred, is dead."

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Gunn and Faramir arrived at Lothlorien as the second message for Rohan did. Without question, the old friends met up and embraced quickly. "Sauron is sucking Willow's power. The Ring must be freed before he gets all of her."

Faith blinked. "How do we do that?"

"You do not know?" Faramir asked disbelievingly.

"Slayer, not witch," she retorted, looking him over critically. "Let me guess, Boro's little bro, Faramir."

Instead of answering her, he stared at Gunn. "Does everyone know?"

"No," a familiar voice answered the question and they turned towards it. "Just those whose opinion truly matter to me. Faramir," he steeped into the clearing and looked over him critically. "You are to thin. Having trouble sleeping?"

Faramir embraced his brother before replying. "I would sleep well if our enemies did the same. The problem is, they do not. We nearly lost the city."

"Father still refuses to do anything more than the minimalist of actions?"

"Father has been replaced," he said.

"Replaced?" Boromir asked, astonished. "By who?"

Gunn laughed, though he knew it wasn't the time or the place for such levity. Still, the whole situation was too ludicrous not to laugh. "Cordelia," he finally spat out the name in answer to the looks he was getting. "It's Cordy."

Faith snorted, unable to contain her mirth. "Hey, squirrel boy! You've just lost your kingdom! Not that you had it in the first place," she added.

"Who?" Faramir whispered, looking at the man who joined them at the woman's call. A pained look on his face as he looked at her.

"Squirrel boy," she repeated. "Also called…what was your real name again?"

"Faith," he began.

"Squirrel boy," she parroted him.

Aragorn gave up. Turning to Faramir, he extended his hand in greeting. "Aragorn," he introduced himself to them.

Gunn's eyebrow rose at the name, though he shook his hand willingly enough. "I've known Faith longer. So, I'm going to have to believe her introduction, squirrel boy. I'm Gunn. And I'm going to see if I can find the boss man."

"Good luck on that. You might want to inform him that he's going to have to give us all raises."

Faith," he objected, stopping for a moment to look back at her in exasperation. "Angel doesn't pay us."

"I know. But he should," she retorted, watching him walk away. Her head shook fondly, she had always known there was a reason she liked him.

"Faramir," the Gondorian man accepted the hand next firmly. "What did she mean your kingdom?"

"Wait just a minute," Faith's voice stopped his answer. "Does no one but the elves know who you are? How very Clark Kent of you, either that or you are a coward. But I'm going believe it's the first based on your performance in battle."

"Thanks. I think," Aragorn dryly replied before turning to Faramir again. "As for the kingdom, I am a descendant of Isildur through my father, Arathorn. Until recently, I have not felt right to return to the White City."

"And now?" he asked, unsure how he felt about this revelation. It felt right but he felt a shadow hanging over this man. Not a shadow like he felt when he heard or thought about the Ring but similar.

The feeling bothered him.

"Now, I am almost convinced by what Boromir has said of his dreams-and yours to return to Gondor. Still, I do not think it is my place to accept the throne with nothing more than my ancestral lines to back up my claims." He stopped, seeing Lord Elrond standing off to their left, an expectant look on his face.

Quickly, he introduced Faramir to the Lord of Rivendell. "How is?" the question was left hanging.

"Master Harris is no better," he informed them calmly. "But he is not worse. What troubles me is that he has not awakened. Unlike Mistress Rosenberg, there is no conceivable reason for his continued rest. Unless there is something l have not been told about him."

It was a half-question directed at the Scoobies and he waited for the answer.

"No," Oz quietly said. "Xander's totally human."

Elrond nodded, he had not really expecting another reply. "Then I have done all that I am able to for him. Mistress Rosenberg has not suffered from my presence here. My sons arrived late last night. I must return to Rivendell immediately for it is suffering in my absence. The darkness has grown."

"Good speed to you," Aragorn said, walking with him. "Are things bad in Rivendell?"

"I would not say bad, Aragorn. They are troubling that much is obvious. It has been many years since the dark has come so close to us. But the situation should improve once I have returned to strengthen the borders. Tell me, how is Mistress Rosenberg really doing?"

"Physically, she seems to be recovering. Emotionally and mentally," he paused, "she is dying. What is worse is that trapping the Ring to giving Sauron a great measure of her power. He has begun to walk among mankind again. It is He they felt on their journey towards the Misty Mountains and then to Moria."

Elrond's eyes closed and he shook his head. "This is a bad sign. Why did we not see it?"

"His Eye still watches. Sauron is still manipulating what is seen and unseen. It has always been within his power to do so."

"So it has," he slowly agreed with him. "I had intended to wait for a while but this news means that I must be off immediately. The dwarves and Mirkwood elves must be warned of this change. I do not suppose there is a chance that Gimli and Legolas would travel to warn them of the danger?"

"I do not think it wise to split up the Fellowship right now. We are still feeling the effects of our time in Moria and the flight from it."

"Then I shall let my sons warn them." A barely visible shudder rocked him as what the ranger told him sunk in. For the first time, he contemplated the reality of Sauron walking among them in mortal form again. "The form he must have taken would be most fair, akin to his first one. Feeding off Willow, I shudder to think of what he is capable of now."

"Is there nothing you can do?"

"I am afraid not," he said. "Her power is unknown to us. To try would put us in Sauron's power at last. Be wary, I cannot see clearly into your future any longer. But Sauron is very aware of you. He fears you."

"I shall be mindful of your words."

"You would do well to be more than just mindful, Estel." It was a clear warning. "I must be off before more time passes."

"Journey well and in safety," Aragorn said. Once the elf lord was gone, he went back to the other. Looking about him, he took a moment to consider where they were and how much they had left to do. Soon, they would have to make a decision and head out.

For the first time, he allowed a smile to cross his face. With these people on his side, he had a feeling that Sauron would find himself defeated-permanently this time.

"Squirrel boy! You planning to join the conversation sometime soon?"

_Now if he could only break Faith of that particular habit_, he thought ruefully. _I never should have admitted anything to her_.

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Sauron waltzed about Isengard, enjoying the ability to touch things. It had been so long since he had enjoyed something so tactile. Really, those who always had this ability at their fingertips did not deserve it.

They foolishly squandered it with their fears. Their endless quests for power and land, things that did them no good in the end, they were all to utterly mortal. While he loved revealing in power and creating destruction wherever he went, such pursuits were useless if one could not enjoy it.

And he owed his renewal to a redheaded slip of a girl from an unknown world.

Really, he must think of an appropriate way to thank her-and keep her alive. Sauron was not a fool. He had learned, through his network of palantirs and spies, that he could only keep his form if she stayed alive-and somewhat healthy.

He knew that her guardian Giles was searching for a better place for her to stay. Right now, his thoughts rested upon Rohan. This meant that his campaign would have to wait until the girl was up and well once more.

Shrugging, he knew it would be no hardship for him.

Rohan was not high up on his list of places he needed to conquer. Trapping the city on both sides would have helped his campaign against Gondor. The only discomfort he felt was the thought that he would have to renounce his words to Saruman. Never a tasteful thing, one could not have one's underlings think that he was not committed to the cause.

The other thing that troubled him was this Grima Wormtongue they had in Edoras.

From listening and observing, he did not trust this man to leave the girl be. Grima wanted power. This **_is_** why he betrayed his king so easily. To put such a tempting morsel in his path would not do. Forgetting the White Lady, he would go after the more vulnerable one in his quest. She would never get the opportunity to rest for him if she was constantly fighting off his advances.

"Saruman," he called out as he sat down, his voice circling the room and wafting sibilantly out into the hall.

The White Wizard entered, his eyes downcast. "Yes, my lord? What is it you wish of me?"

"Several things. First and foremost, I want the answer to this simple question. Do you know of a Rupert 'Ripper' Giles?" He peered over at his servant, contemplating him and his attitude carefully.

Of all his servants, this one was his most deceptive and troublesome. As one of the Maia, he had the most potential to return to the light, to betray him. The question was, would he?

Was his desire for power great enough that it would keep him on his side? If it was, did he really want such a lustful and prideful man about?

"Giles?" he repeated, tasting and drawing out the name slowly. "I believe that I met him once, many years ago. A powerful _daemon_, somewhat rebellious with his actions, he was very gifted. Gandalf mentored him until he ran afoul with his studies. He stood trial and was sent into exile. If he returned to us, he was not to use his powers unless given permission by two on the Council. Why?"

"He is one of the strangers I mentioned and has taken a young student," he informed him, taking care to keep his face blank. "Slightly more powerful than he is but not as physically capable, she has fallen ill among the elves. This Giles seeks a place of safety. You will give Wormtongue orders that they are to be left alone-especially the redheaded girl."

"Very well," he replied. "I shall let him know immediately. What else is your desire of this humble servant?"

"The campaign on Rohan itself must slow down."

"My lord?" he asked, confused. First he was being scolded for being to slow and told how to increase productivity. Now, he was told to stop their new movements. _What was Sauron up to_?

"I am going to tell you something you had best keep in confidence-or what I do to you will make you wish for death. A wish that will forever be denied to you," the warning was given and he could tell taken to heart by the increase in Saruman's breathing. A slightly pleased smile crossed his face. "I need the girl-his student-to be kept safe. She is coming for rest and recuperation-which is exactly what she must find."

"I see," he slowly replied, doing some quick thinking. His breathing picked up even more as he realized something. _Could it be possible that this girl was_…he stopped that thought before it could be completed.

But Sauron had caught his slip.

"What?" he demanded. "What do you know that I do not?"

Compelled by the look and the voice, Saruman found himself speaking. "This girl, I do not believe that she is a _daemon_. I believe that she is more than that. From your description of her, I believe that she is a _sidhe_, a faery woman. This places her in direct equality with the Maia. Giles may be her tutor for now but he will become her balance, her protector when the time comes."

"If she is so powerful, why is she so ill?"

"From what has been written of her race, I would say that it is because she has not adapted to the land. Power flows through her at an amazing rate. If she has not been prepared for this world, she would be an open conduit, totally at the mercy of the land she rests on."

"I see," Sauron murmured, face a stone guarding his thoughts from view. This knowledge disturbed him. If it was true that it was the land itself, the girl would never recover. Could, in fact, die as a result of exposure to his full self.

Unless…could she be turned to the dark?

It was a thought that teased him with its possibilities. A powerful worker of enchantments only limited by her weak presence. There was probably no real need for a _daemon_ to be her balance. It was quite possible that anyone would do.

Still, he could make no accurate conclusion until she was stronger. As inconsiderate as it may seem, he needed to back and let her recuperate. Let her rebuild herself, bring strength back into her life so that he would be able to see what a _sidhe_ was really like.

But not just yet.

Sauron still wanted to enjoy this-and build up his own reserves of her strength. Doing so would keep him within her.

"Go and see to it, Saruman."

Bowing, he made the appropriate replies and left. A shiver of guilt touched him as he thought about what he had told Sauron. Why did he feel as though he had made a great mistake and condemned himself to a future death?

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The first thing they heard was the sound of horses. Many horses.

The second was the sound of a dismount and someone walking purposefully towards them. Which led to the third thing they were aware of. An imperious voice asking them briskly, "What business brings such strangers as you to the northern borders of the land of the Riddermark?"

Buffy looked up from the ground, feeling as though all her ribs were gone. She gasped as she sucked in air, only dimly wondering how the others were doing. Over the sounds of their attempts to breath, she could hear Connor's whimpering and Fred's soothing cadence, underscored with her pain.

Pushing herself up from the ground, she saw someone in the bright sunlight who could be no taller that she was. Dressed in a short tunic, a sword by her side, a woman of unmistakable warrior heritage stood. An air of calm and casual authority surrounded her.

Realizing that no one was going to say anything, the Slayer cleared her throat and stepped forward. Almost instantly, they were surrounded by a band of warriors, spears drawn and held steady, pointing at them.

The same woman who spoke made a dismissive gesture and they relaxed. Slightly. A look of apology crossed her face, though it remained stern. "Forgive us but these are suspicious times. You were going to say?"

"I am Buffy Summers," she introduced herself. Eyeing them warily, she turned to gesture at the others in her group, while taking a quick count to make that they were all there. "My companions, Fred Burkle, Wesley and Connor Whydham-Pryce, and Lindsey MacDonald."

"And what business is yours?"

"We are looking for our friends. They would have shown up here a while ago. Or somewhere in this area," she trailed off, uncertain now of what to say.

"We have seen no one dressed as you are," she started but the arrival of a newcomer stopped. This woman leaned over and whispered in her ear. Nodding, she continued to watch them, a new interest in her eyes. "Thank you. Tell you, do you know Ripper?"

Though startled, Buffy answered the question. "He's my watcher-and prefers going by the name Giles."

"I am Idis, leader of the Shield Maidens of Rohan and daughter of Theoden, the king upon whose land you now stand on. Come with us. We must be gone before the Wild Men come." Whistling shrilly, she leaped onto the horse that came over to her immediately.

Riding up, she extended a hand to Buffy and pulled her up behind her. It the signal the others seemed to be waiting for and they soon found their way riding along the well-beaten dirt path.

For the most part, they rode in silence, just trying to hold on. But once they were sure of their seating on the horses, they began to look about them at the mostly flat land in interest. It was, perhaps, the first time that any of them had seen land like it.

Buffy knew it was prairie land. Everyone knew what prairie land was. Yet it had never occurred to her that such barren, flat land could have such of signs of life, both on the ground and in the air.

It was strangely comforting.

"Would you mind telling me how you know Giles?"

For a moment, Buffy was annoyed to hear Wesley speak and shatter her peace. But he brought up a good point. How did they know of Giles?

"All will be revealed when we are a safe, in our land," Idis replied, spurring her horse onto even greater speed.

Buffy couldn't figure out why they had increased their pace until a strange but familiar feeling crept up her spine. Glancing behind, she saw some of the warriors form up into two straight, defensive lines and slow their own pace, turning about to protect them.

Just beyond them the Slayer could clearly see inhuman, almost demonic faces heading towards them. Instinct kicked in and all her senses came alive, firing up her blood in anticipation. "Put me down," she calmly said, voice low with intent.

Idis' startled gaze flew back to meet the steady blue of her passenger's. "What?"

"I said, put me down. I can help," Buffy repeated. A sense of peace had come upon her at the sight of the demon horde. This was something she knew. This was something she could do something about.

Studying her, Idis nodded, recognizing in her a kin spirit. Whirling about, she rode towards the waiting warriors. "Lead them on to safety!" she ordered her waiting second.

The taller woman tossed her sword to Buffy, nodded her understanding, and rode to the head of the line. "Split up and move out! Protect the strangers at all costs!"

Knowing that she would only be in the way once the battle began, Buffy made ready to break away from Idis. Clutching the sword tightly, she leaped off and entered the fray on foot. Tossing back her head, she sent a challenging look at the foes.

Idis stared at her for a moment in utter disbelief, calling after her. "**YOU ARE CRAZY**!"

"No," she retorted, swinging the sword at one of the larger orcs and connecting firmly. Slicing it cleanly in two, it fell at her feet and she moved on, purposefully. Calling over her shoulder confidently, even as she blocked another blow. "I'm the Slayer."


	14. I've Got Some News, Are You Sitting?

_Author's Thanks:_

_Darklight: Thanks. I am trying but now that things are picking up, it's getting more difficult to write. Trying to keep the balance between both realities and not let the BtVS group overwhelm them is hard. You know?_

_Brutal2003: Oh, yeah. Not only are they starting to gather, some of them are going to meet each other very soon. Unfortunately, they are also going to have a split, much like how it happens in the book. Then, well, things are really going to heat up. You'll see what I mean._

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Xander blinked his eyes, slowly opening them to the dim moonlight. In his right hand, he held Willow's and he squeezed is, shocked when he felt the pressure returned. "Giles," he croaked out. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Giles!"

Sam heard him and jerked awake, blinking momentarily. Looking over, he could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Jumping up, he ran out and saw the group talking with a man he did not recognize. A momentary feeling of inadequacy overcame him but he pushed it aside. "Where is Giles?" he asked, not bothering to use his full title.

"Why?" Faith replied, not correcting him. It had taken them long enough to break the formality. She really didn't want to go back to that awkward place.

"They are awake."

Several heads whipped in the direction of the alcove where the two rested. Though Xander could barely lift his head and Willow's eyes were only slits, it was obvious they were awake. Rushing forward, Sam quickly intercepted them and held them off firmly.

"Not until Giles has seen to them. I will not allow you to burden them with your worries and concerns. They have been through enough," he said, not allowing their size to intimidate him.

"But," Gunn began.

"No," he firmly held his ground.

"Sam, this is important," Faith started to say when Oz's hand rested on her shoulder.

"Sam is right," he softly said. "If we burden them now, it may cause a regression. Sauron already has a hold on her, a few more minutes won't matter."

Giles came up behind them, eyes bleary with exhaustion and worry. He could tell that something had happened by the looks on their faces. "What is it? Have they taken a turn for the worse?" he asked apprehensively.

"They're awake," Oz said, moving to let the watcher move past.

The speed with which he moved through them surprised those who could feel the breath of his weariness. Hands moved rapidly over Xander, checking his wounds and how he felt before turning to Willow, giving her a much more gentle examination. Leaning back at last, he smiled for the first time in ages. "Willow," he greeted her, smoothing back her hair with a soft touch.

Blinking her eyes, they shifted to focus on where she could feel he was. It was hard to focus but she felt she needed to be looking in his general direction for this message. Oh, how she hated to be the bearer of bad news like this. "Dawn's in Mordor," she coughed out the words.

"That's not good," Oz muttered, grasping the implications instantly.

Thankful for perhaps the first time that she could not see him, Giles stared at her, mouth dropped in shock. Sheer horror was written across his face and he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the news she had shared with them.

"I know," she whispered, "not what you wanted to hear." Her hand slowly crept towards his and shakily grasped it. "Sorry."

"Willow," he practically sobbed her name, pulling her into his arms. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She felt the tears on her hair and snuggled closer, letting her warmth reassure him. "Don't cry, Giles. 'm fine. Xander found me and saved me. I'm going to be fine. You have to believe that 'cause I am going to get better."

Nodding, he just held her closer.

Faramir stepped back, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with what he saw.

It wasn't that he thought less of the man for his tears. In fact, he would have lost respect had the man not shown some emotion about this miraculous recovery. But there was something awkward in witnessing the sight of a stranger crying so brokenly.

Deep in thought, he almost missed Boromir joining him. "So, that is your Willow." At his brother's confirming nod, he said. "She is not what I had expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Someone like an elf," Faramir replied with a helpless, showing that he didn't know quite what he was trying to say. "Mysterious. Full of grace and power. An undeniable and indefinable beauty that transcends mere mortal sight. She is so helpless, frail, but there is a kind of cuteness about her."

Boromir laughed at that, a full-blooded laugh that caused tears to form in his eyes. "She hears that all the time-including from their enemies."

"What?"

"That she is cute," he chuckled, wiping away a few tears. It felt good to laugh again after so many days of sorrow. "I believe that was one of the first things I said to her. She said that 'appearances are all too often deceiving'. Then, she lifted me clean of my feet, suspending me upside down for a few moments."

"Really?" he asked, glancing back at the girl. Well, what he could see of her through the press of her friends, that was. She did not seem all that impressive to his eyes. Yet…"I do not doubt you for Sauron has his eye on her."

"I know," Boromir's voice was hard. "There is nothing we can do about that, even if we wish to."

"Who is this Dawn?" Faramir asked, feeling it best to change the subject. The look in his brother's eyes worried him more than he could say. What troubled him the most was that he could feel the anger within him as well. It was more than the girl, though that was a factor. It was the whole situation that angered his brother-and he did not like feeling this way.

"Trouble," Boromir answered flatly.

"Meaning?" he pressed, sensing there was more to it than a normal rebellious attitude.

Boromir ran a frustrated hand through his hair and glanced up at the nearly white canopy illuminated by starlight. "Oh, you know that I do not mean that she is a bad girl. She is not; Dawn is a good kid. Has a steady head on her shoulders, but…she is not real in the same sense that we are. Some monks needed to protect a mystical force and gave it form, mortal form, and a family to watch over her. Dawn is the Slayer's sister and possesses within her blood the ability to destroy the world."

"So, trouble."

'Yeah," he flatly agreed.

"And the Slayer?"

"Is the Chosen One," Boromir said. "She is one girl called in every generation to fight the forces of evil. Except that in Buffy's case there are two, Buffy and Faith."

"Why?"

"Is there two?" At Farmir's nod, he answered plainly. "Buffy died."

"She died? But then there should only be one."

"There should, except that Buffy was revived," he shrugged. "Do not ask me how, I did not understand what method they used when they described it to me. If you wish to know more, I would suggest you talk to Xander. He is the one who found her."

He nodded, "Why a girl?"

"Giles never told me," he said. "But I would imagine that it is because having a female warrior is less obvious than having a male warrior do it. Also, some of the methods that the Watcher's Council employs are…questionable."

Faith divided her attention between the brothers and the scene in the alcove. For a moment, she debated interrupting but decided against it. There was no point in denying his words. Nor did think that she could do a better explaining things than Boromir was doing. Words had never been her strong suit anyway, she was much more comfortable fighting.

Oz's voice broke into her thoughts. "We need to go to Mordor."

"Mordor?" she repeated blankly, though she felt that she should know the name.

"It is where Sauron works and lives," he elaborated. "Dawn is there."

Faith's eyes narrowed as recognition dawned in them. "Sauron? The same big bad whose cheesy Ring is causing all this trouble? The same guy whose sucking away our Will's soul? Oh, yeah. We're going and he's going down. Big time. And don't think we can't do it, Aragorn. We deal with Sauron and his kind all the time."

"I do not doubt it. Tomorrow we shall make our preparations to leave for Mordor. You are more than welcome to join us."

"Not soon enough," Faith flatly said. "Once I know that they're on the road to recovery, we're gone."

"You will not know the way," he protested, already knowing them for the futile words they were but knowing also that they had to be said.

"Head towards the heart of evil. I think we can find our way," she sarcastically quipped.

"Heart of evil? Sounds like home, pet."

Her lips quirked and she turned to face Spike, sharing the joke with him. Of all there, only he would find it amusing-and play along, even up the ante. "And it also provides our kind of entertainment."

"Sign me up. I could use a good laugh."

"I just heard the news," Angel said before she could reply to that. Gunn stood behind him, looking over his shoulder, a questioning look on his face. "What's going on?" he went on, knowing that something else had happened. Something bad.

"Dawn's in Mordor, so we're going to leave as soon as we know how Xander and Will are doing. Oz will stay to watch over them, so that Giles can rest and lead them to safety. If any still exists in this forsaken land."

"Faith, we may be without much hope but we are far from forsaken," Aragorn protested.

"I believe that," she said, giving him a hard look. "Do you?"

Rending through the space of the trees, an unleashed menace hit them all, bringing them to their knees in pain. Visions of power, of victory, of home, burned into their minds, a siren call to help, to claim the Ring as their own. Grasping their heads or wrapping their bodies, they tried to shut it out.

Shut it all out.

"What's going on?" Gunn yelled over the sound of Willow's agonized screams. He felt the press of something quite familiar in the air and it reminded him of how he'd felt when entering the offices of Wolfram & Hart.

It was the feel of pure evil.

"The Ring," Aragorn whispered, feeling Its icy fingers close around his heart and tighten about it painfully.

"What?"

Pushing back the agony-the temptation-he forced himself to repeat the answer. "The Ring, she has released It."

Faith pushed herself to her feet and entered the room, seeing the ghastly sight of Willow being crushed under the weight of the Ring's malevolence and vehemence. "Borrow my strength," she demanded, joining Xander and Giles.

"DO IT!" she screamed when Willow shook her head emphatically. "I freely offer my aid, my Slayer strength to yours."

"This is madness!" Giles yelled.

"We're going to die if she can't subdue it, watcher," she snapped back. "You need help, girl. DO IT!"

Instantly, the Slayer felt the fire of the power hit her and engulf her with an almost unbearable force. Within it, she could feel Xander-and her sister Slayer. The two Slayers merged their wills together and the five forced the Ring to bend to their wills.

Sauron's Ring subsided into an angry silence, feeling the strength leave It again. Growling under this new imprisonment, though It was no longer trapped, It reached out and touched the mind of the pathetic Gollum, calling to him to come and get his '_precious_'.

Faith, Xander, and Willow came out of it, panting and shaking from their fight. "Thanks," she weakly said.

"Don't mention it," Faith waved off words. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah," she softly said through a yawn.

"Buffy's here, did you know that?"

"She is?" Xander asked, shaking his hand. As bad as he felt for thinking it, he was relieved that the pressure on his hand had finally been alleviated.

"I felt her," Faith simply replied. "She helped us, but I couldn't find out where she was."

Giles nodded, stroking absently at Willow's sweaty forehead. "That is good to hear."

"Then Spike and I are off to Mordor," she glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a throat clearing, "With Angel," she added, with a twisted smile on her lips.

"Be careful," Giles advised, hoping they would listen.

"Take the fun out of it, why don't you?" she complained with a teasing frown. "I have no intention of doing any less, G. There are a few debts that demand payment. Payment that won't be made if we get ourselves killed."

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Glory fumed. The little Slayer and her mangy friends had managed to elude her.

Again.

Really, this was getting intolerable.

And what was worse, she was no closer to getting her Key back than she was at keeping her pathetic mortal form from appearing.

And, to top off that piece of injustice, she had nothing new to wear. "Bring me Tara!"

"You wished to see me, my Queen?" A demure young woman entered the room, dressed in a simple blue silk sheath. On her wrists, two silver bracelets jangled lightly as she clasped her hands and bowed, the anklets chiming as she dropped to her knees.

From where she stood, Glory studied the younger woman carefully. In soft waves, the simple power of the girl radiated off of her. A brilliant talent but wasted on the mediocrity of her family's whims; she had found her after an accident that had been caused by their neglect.

And the girl's own desire to cease to exist.

To be fair, she thought with a sour twist of her lips, it had been that wretched _Ben_ who had actually come across her. Had saved her and brought her to safety, far from her family's not quite inconsiderable reach.

Still, Tara had made a welcome addition to her troop of followers. There had been something within her that Glory had brought out, had twisted into a perfectly forged weapon for her to use.

"My little witch, come close to me." She beckoned and watched the tawny haired woman stand up, slowly approaching her. "Closer, dear girl, I have no intent to hurt you for you have proved to be of invaluable aid to me."

Keeping her eyes downcast, she moved until she was standing right in front of Glory, murmuring. "I never thought you did for you have always shown me nothing but consideration and kindness. It is the deepest pleasure of my heart to help you. What it is that you wish of me, my Queen?"

As with every time before when she stood this close to her benefactress, the spine-tingling feel of Glory's essence left Tara feeling slightly breathless and almost sick with the power she exuded.

She adored it.

Eyes gleaming with satisfaction, Glory pulled her closer. Lowering her voice so that only she could hear her, she whispered sultrily, "It is not what I wish, my witch, it is what you wish that I want to hear. Tell me, dear, what it is that you most desire."

Biting her lip for a moment, Tara glanced at her through the corner of her eyes, debating her answer. Lips curling up viciously, she answered. "The power I am denied to get revenge on those who harmed me."

Quickly thinking, Glory nodded in satisfaction. It was what she had expected to hear-and she knew that while she couldn't give her that power, there was one who had it.

And would not need it once she was done with those who defied her at every turn. "You find a way to get us into Middle-Earth and all the power you desire shall be given to you."

Though she knew how hard the task would be, the idea that she would be able to make her family pay. To make the whole town pay for ignoring her needs, ignoring the wrongs they knew were going on, made her nod her head.

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Idis rode up; blood spattered and pulled the exhausted Buffy up behind her. They rode silently for a moment, recovering from the battle just ended. Behind her, some of her warriors had dismounted to take care of the gathered dead and to destroy the bodies of the fallen enemies. "I have never seen anyone fight like that. You possess great strength and skill for an outworlder."

"It is my birthright and my burden," she said in resignation. "Did they make it?"

"Your friends are safe."

"And the others? Did we buy them enough time?"

Idis nodded, touched by her concern. "My second reports that there are a few injuries but nothing life-threatening. Thank you for the help."

"No problem," she brushed the words off. "It's what I do."

"Why?" Idis asked. "I know why I do what I do, it is my history and my inheritance as the daughter of the king. But why would you who are so young choose to dedicate your life to this perpetual battle?"

Buffy thought for a moment, trying to find an answer in her jumbled up thoughts. The question was tricky for how did one explain the supernatural to one who seemed to know nothing of it for all that their enemies seemed to scream it? _I wish Giles was here_, she thought wistfully. _He'd know what to do, what to say. Even Wesley would be good here_.

"As I said," she began hesitatingly, "I am the Slayer. Giles said that our world began, not as a paradise, but as a world were demons ruled supreme until humans took over. After a time, they left the world to man, save for some who stayed behind. The Slayer was created to stop the forces of evil. I am one of the Slayers of my generation, usually there is only one called."

"That is quite a burden to place on the shoulders of one person."

"Girl," she corrected, absently and automatically.

"What?"

"The Chosen One, another name I bear, is always a girl."

Idis led them into a settlement. The wounded went to the right where a large building resided, surrounded by smaller ones. Though there was a flurry of activity, there was no chaotic or wasted moment about them. It revealed all to clearly that this was something they were used to, even accepted as a part of life's daily routine.

They turned to the left and rode to a building, which could only be the stables. Idis slid down before helping Buffy off, though she knew the girl did not need it. Taking the bridle in one hand, she led the horse inside and began to rub him down. Not knowing what else to do, Buffy followed her.

"I still believe that it is a heavy burden to place on one person." There was no condescension in her voice, which reassured Buffy. In fact, she detected more than a little understanding in the voice.

"I'm not actually in this alone. A few years back, I kinda broke the rules. I made friends and they found out about who I am. Instead of running away or denying the truth, they stood by my side. They still stand beside me and fight."

"Would Ripper-excuse me, Giles-be one of these friends you speak of?"

Buffy shook her head, flushing just a bit. "Not at first, he has a different place in my life. I met him after moving to Sunnydale. He's my Watcher, meaning that he trains me and gives me guidance. At first, I resented him because I was trying to rebuild my life and he represented a threat to that. Now, though, I can't live without him."

"You sound as though you love him," she softly observed.

"Of course I love him. Why wouldn't I?" The conversation ended when a woman Buffy didn't recognize entered and cleared her throat.

"My Queen, the visitors desire to know how their friend is doing." She informed them briskly, glancing curiously at the blonde with her Queen. With the gift of sight she sometimes possessed, she could see some unusual presence surrounded this girl.

It was intriguing-and a little intimidating when she recalled what she had heard of her actions on the battlefield. The woman was strong and slightly reckless. But never to the point of carelessness, she seemed to be always conscious of those about her.

"How careless of me!" Idis scolded herself, shaking her head in consternation. To her, this breach in etiquette was unforgivable. She would not lightly forgive herself for putting her own needs before the needs of others. Not only did she know better, she expected better of herself. "Please, go and reassure them of your well being. And forgive me for keeping you from them."

"There's nothing to forgive," Buffy said quickly. "I didn't think of them either, happy that I was talking to someone who understands the burden placed upon me and those who are like me. With the exceptions of my friends and Faith, it is rare."

Which was sadly true. Usually when someone found out, they either treated her with disdain or expected her to be flawless and perfect. To have no human failings and have no heart that connected her to her work. In other words, the perfect weapon for use.

"Still, I should have thought of them, not about satisfying my own curiosity. They saw the face of the enemy we fought, it is only right that you should have seen to them first. To assuage their worries and restore their sense of safety for you are all strangers in our lands. Go with Hilde to your friends. We will come to once I have seen to my people."

"Are we prisoners?" she asked.

The reality of their situation had finally hit her. They were in a land where they knew no one. They did not know where Giles and the others were. Even if they did, how would they find them? And for all the help they'd been given-and the way she had pitched in to help, they were still unknown to them.

"No," Idis replied, taking no offense at the question, though she could see the way Hilde bristled at the implication. She, unlike her fellow warrior, knew why it had been asked. It would be something she would have to talk to her about later. She would probably have to talk to all of her women about it.

In fact, she was surprised that it had taken so long in coming. "But I would prefer it if you would wait until someone has shown you around before exploring our home. There are a few defenses you should be aware of."

"I understand." Following Hilde, she noticed that they headed back to the large building she thought of as the hospital. Instead of going past it, they turned right and walked to the clearing that had a deep fire pit surrounded by log benches. Waiting on the benches, were her friends-except for Wesley, who seemed to find pacing a fascinating pastime.

"'Uffy!" a voice squealed and three heads whipped her way. Connor clapped his hands, pleased with how his announcement had excited people. Then he went back to blowing bubbles endlessly.

"You all right?" Wesley asked, cautiously approaching her. His eyes scanned her, relieved to find only minor injuries on her.

"Yeah," she sighed. "In fact, I feel ever so much better. You?"

"Better now that we're together again. I'm sorry about the landing. It was supposed to be a gentle transition, not a violent one."

"Don't worry about it. At least we have a chance now," she paused, suddenly very worried as a thought came to her. "Don't we?"

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Legolas sighed as he parted from his brethren. When the shockwave of the Ring's release had hit them, he had been bombarded with powerful images of decisively ending the feud with the dwarves by getting rid of the entire race.

Of finally having his father's esteem and praise after living in the shadows of his much more favored siblings.

Closing his eyes tiredly, he let out a deep exhalation and unconsciously mimicking a gesture he'd often seen Giles do, rubbed his eyes lightly. It had been all he could do to turn from that mocking, that tempting voice and refuse what It promised him. The thought had teased him, enticed him to just let go and do what he wanted.

Yet, he knew deep inside for the lie the Ring was telling him.

"Are you all right, lad?" Gimli's gruff voice asked.

Startled, he glanced to his left and noticed the dwarf sitting there, a concerned look in his earthy eyes. "The Ring," he faintly said, moving to sit down on the ground beside his friend. _There was comfort here_, he idly thought, _comfort that his brethren knew nothing of_.

He felt sorry for them.

"Aye," the dwarf softly agreed. "I felt It to. The visions that came to me are still haunting my mind in all their color."

"But wrong?" the elf asked, a hopeful sound to his voice.

The touch of Gimli's warm hand resting on his shoulder should have startled him. Or upset him in some way. The fact that it did not was both a comfort and a curse.

"Very wrong," Gimli agreed with him. "Death will not help our problems."

Leaning into the touch, Legolas sighed in agreement-and resignation. "I saw my father," he said into the silence.

Gimli tensed. The dwarf did not like hearing about the man who had imprisoned Gloin and the others. While the dwarf had let go much of the enmity that lay between their families, there was still some residual hanging on inside. Understanding, Gimli may be, but far from unemotional.

"Oh?" Though the word was as neutral as could be, there was a puzzled curiosity Legolas did not miss.

He appreciated Gimli's unwillingness to press him for more information, knowing of his personal discomfort in talking of his family and home life. Yet, he wished that Gimli would press him for more details. _Just once_, he thought with a touch of irritation, _I wish that he would react with the typical dwarvish pigheaded heedlessness. _That he would just rush into an argument or push him into talking about what was obviously painful to him.

As if picking up on some of his mood, Gimli squeezed his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it? Or let it dance around, festering in your rather empty head, taking up the room in there necessary for other things?"

Glancing up through slanted eyes, Legolas shook his head. "I saw my father approving of me. As you know, he does not care for many of my…own quirks, for the fact that I prefer traveling abroad to staying home. When I set out for this meeting, my father gave me an ultimatum. Upon returning, I needed to settle down and begin a respectable life."

"Or?" Gimli asked in the ensuing silence.

"I should not even bother to come home," he sadly finished. The hand moved and he mourned the loss until it encircled his shoulders, drawing him into the earthy warmth that was Gimli.

Not trusting words, Gimli let actions comfort Legolas. The dwarf found the words to speak after a time of silence, knowing that they would be needed, no matter what thoughts dwelled in their minds. "Every child feels the need to please their parents while finding their own path. I think the task is that much harder for the youngest children. Do not despair, your father will come around."

"That was surprisingly sensible, for a dwarf."

"And that was quite a compliment, coming from an elf." The two exchanged smiles before settling down to enjoy the night. "Gimli?" he spoke again after a moment, idly twirling a branch in his hands.

"Yes?"

"I am glad to hear you called elf friend."

After a moment of thought, Gimli nodded, "As am I, lad."

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Cordelia's eyes went hazy for a moment, glancing off to the east. "That was disturbing," she murmured, before facing the dwarves. The conversation on the new gates and outer wall resumed with no further hitches. She had other concerns on her mind than the Ring's release.

Now that Sauron had lost this outlet, his attack upon Gondor would resume with a new ferocity. They would need to be up to the challenge of meeting it. There was no other alternative, for Beren would not allow it.

Nor would she.

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_Sorry this part was so short but things are getting a little twisted and will be picking up speed soon. I promise. There's just a few things I need to research before continuing with the next part_.


	15. On The Road Again, Do I Want This One?

_Author's Note: Uhm, I discovered while reading through this story that there's a chapter missing between 9 and 10. This chapter is important in that it has the conversation between Xander and Galadriel in which he asks about weaving moonlight. It also tells about how Gunn met Faramir and Giles first writing to Rohan. I am thinking about posting it unless you, as my readers, feel that it is not necessary. Please, let me know what you think for I do not wish to add confusion by posting it. Or keep anyone in confusion by referring to events that happened there that are accepted but not explained here._

_Author's Thanks:_

_Brutal2003: Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'm not sure I'm actually going to have her be evil. I think she's more misguided and hurt by the betrayal of her family. She doesn't know who Glory really is and thinks that she is helping a just cause. All she thinks she's doing is helping her friend get back something that was stolen from her. Tara does not know who the Scoobies are. At least, that's the plan for now. grins_

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Merry and Pippin stood protectively over Frodo, not sure what was wrong with him. He was curled up around himself, covering his ears with his hands, eyes teary. A look of fear and longing was in his eyes, even as he shook his head. Refusing to hear the sounds only seeking to sing for him.

"Should we get Sam?" Pippin whispered, glancing over his shoulder as if saying the name would bring the gardener running to them.

"I think so," Merry finally agreed. "He must have some idea about what's going on."

"It is the Ring," Galadriel informed them, her voice weak and shaken. "It is most angry."

"Will she be all right now?" Pippin asked, instantly thinking of Willow.

"I believe that she will, Master Took. One of the most dangerous poisons blocking her recovery has been removed."

Frodo's breathing eased, his grip tightened momentarily on his cousin's before he let go and unfurled himself. Standing up, he glanced at them. "What now?"

"Now," Celeborn answered, his hand resting lightly on his wife's shoulder. "You rest before leaving for Mordor. With his Ring free, Sauron will be more aware of the danger to him. Lothlorien cannot shelter you in safety for much longer."

"Leave?" Frodo asked, half-despairing, though he knew in his heart it was long since time to go. Who knew how much time had passed outside them as they dwelt in the peace and safety of the Golden Wood? Who knew what was truly going on in the world outside?

Galadriel's eyes, so full of weary understanding, met his. "We will not send you out without aid or what protection we can yet offer you, Frodo. But this task was appointed to you. If you cannot fulfill it, I do not know what else may be done for our world."

"I understand," he said, though he did not truly believe that he was the only one who could. Nor did he really understand the words she spoke to him. He was not the only one who knew of their journey's import, not the only one who could carry on if he fell.

"You will," she softly countered, knowing what was in his mind.

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Sauron relaxed into the chair, slightly worried. The sudden-and down right violent-cut away from the wellspring of strength the redhead was…disappointing. But it was only a small set back for him and thus, only occupied a small part of his mind.

At that moment, he was waiting for Saruman to return with Wormtongue. It was not that he did not trust his servants to follow his commands. It was that he did not trust _this_ servant to follow his orders.

Thus, he wished to deal with Wormtongue himself. If he wanted no interference with the girl's recovery, he could not have them double crossing him. There was a distinct possibility that the wizard would, now that the Ring was blocked from his grasp.

The very thought that Saruman knew who she was while he dwelt in ignorance made his flesh crawl with anger.

He could not afford any further infractions. If he did not like what he saw in Wormtongue or what Saruman produced once he left, he would dispose of them both-Angmar needed a new hobby. His current one was annoying Sauron to no end.

"Master," Saruman said as he entered. Behind him, a pale and sickly looking man stood, draped in black. An expression of terror combined with disbelief colored this shadows face. "I present to you Theoden King's advisor, Grima Wormtongue."

Both men bowed as he sat, a bored and contemptuous sneer of his face. "You may leave us in peace, Saruman."

Biting his lips to prevent questioning him, he nodded and left.

Sauron sat and stared down at Grima, waiting in silence. As he did so, he looked him over and read in his face the man's character. The sneer that curled up on the right side of his face, becoming almost feral in intensity.

Wormtongue gulped at the sight, quailing before him, terrorized. His eyes turned away from this dark lord and glanced down at the black floor. Any thought of trying to pull anything fled his mind. He could hardly remember what Saruman had said to him as they had journeyed from Meduseld to Isengard.

Satisfied, he turned his gaze towards the palantir that had begun to softly glow. Soon, he would have to study it and see what the warning was.

For the moment, though, he could wait.

"Sometime in the near future a group of refugees will come to Meduseld. They will be seeking shelter within the Golden Hall. You will allow them in. You will not harm a hair on their heads. You will allow no harm to come to them while they are in your care. If any harm does come to them, you will die in the instant that it does. Any questions?"

"Why are they so important to you, my Master?"

Sauron stopped studying the distant palantir and glanced down at him, an almost but not quite disbelieving look on his face. "I am sorry. What did you say? Did you actually think that I was giving you permission to ask me anything about my motives? What did I say that actually gave you the impression that I would _care_ about your questioning?"

Wormtongue swallowed audibly, his shaking increased with every word uttered. "Forgive my insolence, most gracious lord."

He did not answer the wretched plea. "They are not to be harmed," he reiterated. "See to it, pathetic wretch. Or die."

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Buffy and her group followed Idis, listening to her warnings as she guided them about. She had been a little disappointed that they'd had to wait until the next afternoon for the queen to come to them. Though she tried to understand about the delay, all she really wanted was to be on her way.

Yet, Wesley had been right when they'd discussed things last night. They needed all the allies they could get in this most strange world. They were strangers and knew nothing of their ways. They did not know the enemies or the lay of the land.

It would be best to rest and regroup before attempting to strike out on their own.

_Sorry, Faith, for leaving this into your hands_, she thought, though she knew her sister slayer could handle things. _And I'm sorry, Xan and Will, for letting you guys face this danger alone_.

"Do you wish to ask me anything?" she finished her tour and faced them.

"About Giles?" Wesley started.

She nodded even as she interrupted him. "How do I know him, though I am ignorant of your land and ways?"

"Yes," he agreed.

"Through my brother, Theodred, who has sadly passed on into the halls of our ancestors but recently. They became friends through Gandalf, the Gray," her face pinched at the name before relaxing into a pleasant expression once more.

"Is this Gandalf a bad person?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Your face changed when you mentioned him," Buffy replied.

"Gandalf is a wizard," Idis explained after a moment's reflection. "But he and my father had a falling out a while ago over something or other. I never did learn about what for father will not speak of it and I refuse to talk to that wretched being he has for an advisor." She spat on the ground at the thought of Wormtongue. "If you go to Meduseld, and I advise you to do so, avoid Grima Wormtongue. A more disreputable being in human flesh this world has yet to create."

Idis saw them exchanging looks and laughed.

It was not a happy sound. "You will understand when you meet him, though I pray that you never do. He is a most foul and wicked man, not fit to be around."

"Then why is he your father's advisor?" Wesley asked.

"Theoden, king has found him to be a man of some good counsel and advice. And he was not always such a disgraceful worm. Also, he has proven to be friend to Saruman, the wizard who dwells in the Tower of Isengard."

"Is he anything like Gandalf?" Fred asked, shifting Connor to the other side.

The queen's head shook, almost reluctant to admit that there were differences between the two wizards. "No. Gandalf may be…hard for some to take. But he is concerned about what happens to all life on Middle Earth. Saruman was once a good man but he has become twisted over the years."

"Then why has no one tried to remove him from power?"

"It is not that easy, Buffy," she sighed. "We are not the ones who put him into power. We do not have that authority."

"Who does?"

"The elves call them the Valar," she said simply. "We just accept that there are beings of immense power who control certain things in our world."

"I see," Wesley forestalled any other question in relation to this. While interesting and relevant to the religious culture of Middle-Earth, what they were discussing did not help them find their friends. "While I and my friends thank you for your hospitality, when do you think we can move on? Our friends have been here for some time and we wish to find them."

"I would recommend waiting until after you have had a few riding lessons. Our land is mostly wide fields and would serve you better than walking the distance. Of course, there is a danger in this," she mused, glancing at them out of the corner of her eye. "They may not take to you easily."

"Why?" Fred asked curiously, head tilted to the side. "A horse is just an animal like any other, right?"

Idis bristled at the implications of her words. She had to restrain herself with the reminder that they were new to Rohan and did not understand its ways. Still…"A horse is **_not_** just an animal. Our horses especially for they are descendents of the Mearas, Lords of Horses and do not sit anyone."

"I meant no offense," she said, wide eyed at the rebuke.

"I know that you did not," Idis softened her tone. "Be more careful about the words you speak. There are those who are not so understanding as I."

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Faith, Spike, and Angel slowly rowed away on the Great River, aware of the sun rising behind the cloudy mists of morning. The admonitions of Celeborn ringing in their ears even as the song of the elves trilled in the air. In the center of the boat, the gifts they had been given rested, glowing dimly in what remained of the pre-dawn light.

The trio had not known how to feel about the unexpected gifts. They had thanked them for them though, knowing that they would be needed. The Galadhrim cloaks they felt especially thankful for they offered not only some camouflage, but gave them warmth when necessary and were light enough to not hamper their movements.

Faith shivered and pulled her elven cloak more securely about herself, marveling at the warmth it provided for her physical self, though it did nothing to warm her up inside her soul. As anxious as she had been to get on her way the day before, the dream of last night haunted her mind. She, unlike Buffy, had never been prone to Slayer dreams and this one warned her of danger.

Something vicious waited for them in the land of Mordor. Something that was older and more evil than even Sauron seemed to be. The uncertainty clawed at her like a living thing, eating away at her confidence.

On the air, the scent of growing evil twitched her nose. For perhaps the first time since meeting Kakistos and fleeing from him, she felt fear creep over her and still the blood in her veins.

She did not like it.

Looking back once, she sought reassurance from the sight of Lothlorian.

"You okay, Faith?"

"Five by five, Angel," she absently answered. Resolutely, she turned her face to the east, a set look on her face. She would not let memory or fear defeat her now. "Let's show these guys what it means to mess with the Slayers' own."

"I do hope that this is the right thing to do," Celeborn murmured softly to his wife. His voice hardly carrying on the breeze for he did not wish the others to hear his words, they were for Galadriel only. "Still, the future is ever in motion and, for good or ill, they are a part of ours now. Tell me, where is Haldir?"

"I have sent him on an errand to all the dwarves for I wish them to know of the very real danger to us. Once he returns, he shall guide our friends into Rohan for I do not wish them to go by way of Fangorn and I fear that they may stumble upon it," she said, accepting his hand as he led her away from the shore. "How goes the preparation for the journey into Mordor? Will I and my ladies have time to finish their cloaks?"

"They have only a day left for I have many gifts that I wish to present to them. What would you suggest I give the dwarf?" he asked.

"A gift for Gimli?" she repeated, pondering the question. "Leave that to me, my lord. I desire to make this gift special for Gimli has brought such laughter into my heart in these dark and troubled days."

"Very well," he said, relieved to have the matter taken out of his hands. Glancing back once, he softly mused. "Did we choose well for them?"

"A bow and quiver of arrows for Faith, that was well chosen for it was upon Legolas' advice that you did so. A length of _hithlain_ and a sword for Angel, he is more practical than the other two. Sam should receive one as well, rope will be needed on his travels," she fell silent.

"You have seen?"

"Frodo has seen what may be, I merely observed his reaction and saw what he allowed me to. The Ring weighs heavily upon him. But the strength of hobbits is extra-ordinary, especially when it involves their friends. There is strength within Sam that I had not counted on, that Frodo depends upon. Whatever path lies before him, I believe that Sam will be there for him. It was something that I was not expecting," she replied after reflecting upon the events of her mirror. "What of Spike? For him, what gift was chosen?"

Celeborn was silent as they entered their chambers and he sat down before answering her questions. "Spike," his face twisted momentarily in disgust at the name, if one could call it that. "Was most difficult for he is a much more personal fighter, one who prefers close combat over distance fighting. He has not shown any interest in our weapons, nor did he have any when he arrived, save what he was able to improvise along the way."

"Surely, you did not send him away without a weapon, my lord," she said.

"I did not have much of a choice until I found the daggers made by Celebrant and Narvi," he sighed. "I pray that it will serve him well. Merry and Pippin should receive of them as well for I believe that they shall need them before long. How sad this day is for we arm those who seem as children to us. That we wish for them to take life instead of enjoying it."

"Dark days are indeed before us. I worry for all Middle-Earth and do not wish to see it fall further into darkness. I worry for those dear souls," she agreed. Falling silent, she contemplated the fate of the hobbits. Those bright souls full of light and laughter that had eased the heartache Gandalf's passing had caused them all. Yet, Gandalf had included them for a reason, one she could not see. She hoped that his faith would not be proven vain.

"What of the Ring's fate? I worry that Frodo will not be able to carry it out to the end."

"I do not any longer," she said. "He offered it to me and I was greatly tempted. It holds no power over me any longer. It is a heavy task that is upon him. A heavy burden he bears and I have no words of solace for him. Yet, I feel that he is the only one who can do it."

"It is a heavy task for anyone to bear, for it can strike at the heart of anyone. Look at the damage It caused Willow," he reminded her.

"I fear that it weighs upon Frodo in ways that even she cannot understand," she sighed and they fell silent, contemplating the uncertain future.

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Willow sat, reclining against one of the great white trees. Beside her, equally kicked back was Xander. Though both of them were healing faster than expected, they were still supposed to rest. In quiet tones, they spoke of the departures of their friends and the decision that had been made that they would be leaving soon as well.

"It isn't that I haven't forgiven Haldir for what happened to you, I just don't want to follow him. Giles knows the way into Rohan well enough that we should follow his lead."

"But Giles does not know everything that has changed in the lay of the land, for all his communications with Lady Eowyn of Rohan. He doesn't know if there are shortcuts that would be wiser to take. Nor can he adequately protect us from the unseen if he can't hear them," she pointed out. "I am doing better. I can aid him, that's true, but we don't want to risk burn out. Again. And, while Oz may be going with us, he's still learning his own _daemon_ senses. We don't want to overload him."

"Must you be so reasonable?" he asked on a sigh.

"No," she replied with a smile. "But it certainly helps. What's wrong, Frodo?"

The hobbit shifted nervously, uncomfortable. He was pleased to see her looking so much stronger, more human than he had ever seen her. Even after they had met up in Moria, she had not looked so complete, he finished his thought uncertainly, though it was far from the word he wanted.

"Frodo? I can't help you if I don't know how. Is it the Ring?"

"I asked Boromir if you could destroy the Ring," he blurted out.

"And what did he answer you?" she asked, cautiously.

"He said that your answer would not bring me joy or contentment. Then he asked how much a spider's web could carry before snapping. I did not understand what he meant, though Aragorn did. If you could trap the Ring, why can you not just get rid of It?"

Willow blinked, dumbfounded. "Get rid of it?" she repeated, blankly. "Frodo, I cannot do that for Boromir is both right and wrong with his words."

"What do you mean?" he asked, approaching them.

"The Ring is growing stronger with every passing day. The more It grows in potency, the more power I would have to expend to destroy It. In the end, I would have to use powers that are not my own. I would be stealing the power from others and when the Ring was destroyed, all that was within It would take firm hold upon me. I would become the Ring, the power, the arm of Sauron. Only in the fires of Mount Doom will that evil die. The Ring will be consumed by the purifying flames of the mountain that birthed It."

Frodo nodded in resignation. Once more hearing the words Galadriel spoke after he had offered her the Ring in his mind. Seeing her terrible form flash before his eyes, he shivered. "I understand," he quietly said, despondency in his heart. "This is my task and one I undertake alone."

"You are never alone," Willow contradicted. "By your side are those who are more than willing to help you carry that burden. But, yes, in the end, the task is yours to see to the end. Though they may aid you, they cannot take it from you."

"That is not what Lady Galadriel told me," he objected.

"No offense to the Lady, wise though she is," Xander said, smiling slightly. "She does not know everything. The only way you can truly be alone is if **_you_** make it so."

"Remember, Frodo, the Ring can only influence you if you let It. I was unwise in thinking that because It was so small and simple, It posed no threat. By thinking this, I crippled myself. I allowed It to gain control over me."

"It is a powerful tool," Frodo agreed. "I have worn It and felt Its touch."

"And now you crave It," she nodded, feeling the touch herself. "I know the feeling. Frodo, do not give in to It. What It offers is not real power. It only pretends to let you be in control. It is really the one with all the power and control. Hold onto your best strength, that which the Ring will never understand. Your assets are in your home, your family, and with your friends."

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"What do you think our move will be?" Gimli asked. Pipe safely tucked away, though the air was still scented lightly with the smell of pipe weed. While Legolas would not object to it, Gimli did not want to bother him with the smell the elf did not like.

"Do you mean to ask if I think that Aragorn will lead us on to Minas Tirith once we cross the rapids? Of if we will go on to Mordor?" he asked, seeking clarity. Giving Gimli no chance to speak, the elf gave voice to his thoughts. "I do not know which he will do. At first, I believed that he would go to Minas Tirith, for that is what he thought Boromir's dreams was calling upon him to do. But Gandalf fell and placed the responsibility of leading us upon him. Aragorn is torn between desires."

"What will you do?"

Legolas leaned back and stared up at the canopy over their heads. "I believe that I will do what Aragorn does. Thought he doubts himself, he is our captain now. It is to him that I will defer to. What of you, Gimli? Will you be leaving us and make your own choice as to the road you will take?"

Gimli snorted. "If you think that I am going to leave our friends with only you for protection, you have another thought coming, you daft elf." Then the tone softened, "I will not leave now, not while I may still be of some use."

"Spoken like a hard headed dwarf," Legolas teased.

"Aye," Gimli agreed, grinning. "And do not be forgetting that is was this hard head that saved your flighty one."

"When?" he challenged. "I seem to recall being the one to save you all the time."

"You wound me, Legolas. My contributions have not been flagrant in battle, such as yours," Gimli acknowledged his contributions with a nod. "But they have been considerable-and you know it."

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Boromir stood near the border of their shelter, gazing off into the horizon. It had been from here that he'd watched Faith and her companions off on their journey just yesterday morning. Now, he was preparing to bid farewell to Faramir and Gunn, though everything within him wanted to go with them to Gondor.

He knew it would not be a good idea for he had to finish the journey he had undertaken with the Fellowship. To leave now would prove him to be a false fellow. Still, he could not stop the yearning desire that wanted to see his home.

The home he had left so many months ago to seek counsel from Elrond.

It was hard for him to remain silent as they prepared to go back but he had made a commitment to follow Aragorn-wherever that might lead him. Faramir understood that, though he had wanted Boromir to join them.

For a moment, the Ring teased his thoughts and he contemplated what it would mean to him, to the White City if he were to return with It. What having It would mean to his brother's life, It would save his life. It would protect him from the Nazgul who hunted restlessly for It, though he knew that Faramir despised the Ring with all the intensity his gentle soul possessed.

He would not want his life to be saved at the cost of Boromir's soul. Still…

"Boromir."

Turning around, he acknowledged Aragorn and noticed that the Ring was silenced in his presence. Truly, this man was his Captain and his King for no one could have such a hold over him that saved him from the seductive pull of the Ring. "Yes?" he asked when it became apparent that Aragorn would not speak.

"You do not have to remain with us. I will not hold you in any less regard if you decide to part with us now. Your oath was given to Gandalf, not me," he said.

"Aragorn," he shook his head, half in dismay of these words. "I did not make the oath lightly. Nor did I make it contingent upon the leadership of the Fellowship. I made the oath to the **_Fellowship_**, not to Gandalf. I will not renege now."

"I did not think you would," at the look Boromir sent him, he modified his words. "All right, the thought had crossed my mind. Then, I got to know you. I know you to be a man of honor. My words were said in haste, with little thought. What I wanted to say was that if you reconsidered this choice and decided to go to Gondor, I would understand. I know what the desire to see home and family is like. I also know that thoughts of Faramir being in danger has troubled your sleep often lately."

"They do. I do not deny that. But traveling with him will not ease that. If I leave with him and break my vow, I would not be able to deal with my conscience. No, Aragorn, I will not break faith with the Fellowship."

Aragorn nodded. He had expected no less from Boromir. Yet, he could not escape the feeling of foreboding that filled him. It filled him with the same dread thoughts of Moria did. Something was going to happen on this journey. He feared that he was going to lose his friend, his steward to it.

_Well_, he thought with a self-deprecating smile, _I have already lost my kingdom. What need have I of a steward? None. But you do need his friendship_.

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The day after Gunn and Faramir had departed, they bid farewell to the peace of Lothlorian and prepared to head into Mordor. "Boro!" Willow ran and leapt at him. His arms closed around her reflexively as he stumbled back a bit the uneven ground, though he held her securely. "You be wary of the power the Ring exerts upon you. I wasn't and It got quite a hold upon me. It wants you. Don't let It get you."

"I will try," he started.

"No!" she snapped at him. "Try not. Do or do not. There is no try."

Boromir's smile was slow in coming as he recognized not only her words, but also the tone in her voice. "Very well, Master Yoda, wisest of all the crazy Jedi."

"Forget it not," she sternly told him before breaking into a peal of laughter. For those who had never heard her before, it was a shocking sound. "Honestly, Boro, you have got to be careful out there."

"Because Buffy wants to kill me," he said.

"No, silly. Because Cordelia wants to marry you and live in the lap of luxury as befitting one of her status," she corrected him.

"That is not very encouraging," he told her.

"You don't love Cordelia?" she asked, concerned. "I thought that you did. Buffy told me that you practically glowed every time you spoke of Cordy. And you seemed to be so sad when we told you that we might have found a way to send you home. Of course, it turned out that we didn't have to send you back because they took you back anyway."

"Oh, it is not that," he instantly soothed her, not wishing for her to keep twisting herself up in worded knots. "But between her plans for me and Buffy's plan, I seem to be walking into ambushes. I feel like all of my choices have been taken out of my hands. I cannot see a way around them."

"You will," she encouraged him. "Besides, I'll cry if you fall. It would break my heart. I would be forced to take Buffy and Cordy with me to haunt you."

"Oh, little sis," he squeezed her tight. "I do not want to do that to you. Or to Buffy or Cordelia, either, they might enjoy tormenting me too much."

She gasped, smacking his arm lightly. "They would not, you big dope. They love you, though in different ways. Well, may be Cordelia would," she changed part of her answer at the sound of his scoffing laugh. "But you know Buffy better."

"If you say so," he murmured. "I will resist the Ring."

"Trust Aragorn," she whispered, echoing her words from their Rivendell parting. "He may be a bit dense but he's a good man. Misguided at times but good."

"I know. We may have started on a bad foot," he started to say more but stopped, startled to see the Lady and Lord of Lothlorian enter the clearing where they were. Releasing her, they went to join them after exchanging puzzled looks.

"Though you have been our guests for sometime, we have yet to partake of a meal together," Galadriel said. "Before you leave on your journey, we wish to share to one with you in the hopes that it will fill your hearts with new courage. That it will give you happy thoughts to carry through the trying days ahead."

"We would be honored, most gracious Lady," Aragorn bowed.


	16. Don't Even Think It, Too Late

_Author's Note: I know nothing about fighting, so forgive anything in here that seems unrealistic. Oh, and the freaking geography of the land may be slightly off kilter, forgive me for that to. I tried to find a dang map but all the ones I did find weren't very helpful to my untrained eye. They were written like actual maps. Argh! So, I take it that everyone is okay, even though there is a chappie missing? Okay then. Thanks._

_Author's Thanks:_

_Darklight: Sorry I didn't catch your review before I posted ch. 14. Thanks. Yeah, I think it works best if Tara is only in it for revenge. She's amoral that way. But I **am** keeping her in the dark as to the truth about Glory's real identity. At least, for the moment._

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After partaking of the meal, they spoke of the choice they must take after passing the rapids at Sarn Gabir. "Faith and her companions have decided that they will walk the distance, though it will add days to their journey. Should you decide to do the same, your choice will remain the same. But if you will heed my advice, I would travel along the River for as long as you able to."

Before they departed, each was given a gift from the Lord and Lady. "And what would a dwarf ask of an elf?" she asked, a gentle smile on her face.

"Nothing," Gimli blustered, embarrassed by the attention. "I would ask for nothing save one last look upon your beauty for I have never found anything in all the mines I have visited to compare with your loveliness."

Galadriel's laugh rang out, clear and sweet into the woods that echoed back the golden sound in all its purity. "Now, come, my dear Gimli, after such words of praise, would you deny me the opportunity to repay you? Please, I bid of thee to speak freely, what is thy desire of a gift?"

Gimli still hesitated, truly desiring nothing of her or the elves. They had already given so much to them, they had named the dwarf elf-friend, what more could they possibly think that the dwarf need? "Well, there is one thing. I would ask for but a strand of hair from your head."

"Such a small gift," she mused, ignoring the titters around them.

Slightly defensive, though knowing why they laughed, Gimli justified the request. But the reply was simply spoken and without much anger in the words. "I spoke for you bade it of me, though I wished to be silent. I know that it may seem to be such a silly thing to one of your race but it is something that I wish."

"It is no such thing for who can say what will bring strength to another," she chided her people, her gaze upon Gimli ever patient. "What would you do with such a thing, though you claim it to be a silly thing?"

After giving the question some consideration, Gimli spoke the thoughts inside. "I and my people would treasure it as a bond of goodwill between our two people. A bond that will last long after your fair race has gone into the West and mine have disappeared into the mountains we call our homes. I would fashion for it a simple case that it may be forever safe and held in a place of honor for all to see and marvel."

"Then let it be done for we should be as kin," she said. Taking out her braids, she cut away three strands. Placing them in a silver cloth, she handed it to Gimli. "May these warm your days and give you courage to go on as your words have given me hope for better days." She held the earthy eyes for a moment, a last smile crossing her face. "And when you have created this marvel, come and visit me for you shall always be assured of welcome here."

"Thank you," Gimli bowed clumsily.

Turning to Frodo at last, she held a phial of white light that glittered as it moved. "For you whose mission troubles me the most, Frodo, I grant you the light of Earendil's star. May it forever shine bright and true for you when all other lights have gone out. Take care and it will guide you in your darkest times. Remember all those who have come before and find strength within you through them."

Accepting it, he saw her reflected in the light as she had stood at her mirror, the Ring in his open palm. First, as a Dark Queen with terrible strength and beauty, that would wield the Ring with purposeful intent and end the reign of the fierce Sauron.

Then she changed into the gentle Lady he knew. Beautiful still. But no longer terrible and her power was the soft touch of one who loves the Earth and encourages growth. On her finger, a star twinkled, reminding him that he was not alone in this.

Beyond her, he could see Willow reflected within the light. And what he saw there had him grasping for sturdy ground beneath his feet. He could not tear his eyes away from what he saw; for all that he wanted to.

Feeling Sam nudge him, he jerked away from the image. Wide eyed, he stared at his friend, who simply gestured to Galadriel. Following his gaze, he looked up at the Lady and noticed her concerned look. At the moment, he could not tell her what he saw. He might never be able to speak of it for words escaped him to describe the horrific sight.

"Thank you," he whispered instead. Holding it close and stepping back, he allowed the warmth of the light to penetrate the icy feeling forming within him.

Finally the time came and they departed, good wishes ringing in their ears. As the days slid by in a quick slow fashion, they said little, though all were aware of the horrifying path that lay before them. The frightening choice that would have to be made before Sauron's powerful, all seeing eye saw them.

Aragorn found himself watching Boromir the closer to Sarn Gabir they got. There was a hopeless desperation in his eyes every time he glanced Frodo's way. Often, the man would jerk away, seeming to berate himself for it. Many times he went out of his way to avoid being alone with the Ring bearer. To avoid being near him even in the midst of their company, he would often sleep on the edge of their campsite.

_Temptation's siren call_ _from the Ring_, Aragorn realized. His heart was touched with compassion for the proud man who fought so hard to resist the call. "You cannot and shall not have him," he vowed, glaring in the general direction of Mordor.

From that point onwards, though he tried not to let his change in behavior show, he remained closer to Boromir. He knew that the younger man was aware of his actions. Of why he was doing this for all that he did not speak of it. There had been one, long, searching look before resigning himself to it.

"We must be wary for danger is near," Aragorn announced one night after their evening meal had finished. His pipe was lit and he leaned against the log, noting with some discontent the alert way Legolas stood. The ground was still damp from the rain that had fallen during the day.

After a moment of silence in which he caught their attention, he said. "Legolas and Sting have picked up the presence of orcs. And I believe that Gollum is following us. Sam said that he thought he saw a gray log with eyes behind us, near to the boat Legolas and Gimli were in, though it disappeared before he could make sure that he was not just seeing things in the graying light of evening. I feared that it was only a matter of time before the Ring called to him and brought him to us."

Frodo made a tiny face, hidden in his folded arms. He did not like the mention of this creature for it was this _thing_ that brought much of the trouble upon him. But Gandalf's words of Gollum yet having a place in this kept him silent.

"Tomorrow we shall pass Sarn Gabir; the choice must be made about where to turn," he reminded them. "Shall we journey into Gondor and seek help there. Or shall we take our chances and head into Mordor, towards the Black Gates?"

Boromir opened his mouth, and then aborted his words quickly. Right now, with his frame of mind, he doubted the wisdom in his thoughts. He feared that he would not give the best advice for their situation.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked, seeing the gesture. He could see the doubt in the man's eyes and wanted to banish it, showing that he trusted him.

"Do not take this the wrong way, but I feel that we should go into Gondor. Not to the White City for there will no be aid there. They are preparing for a battle with Mordor and we should not take men away from that. It is my opinion that we should not approach Mordor by way of the Black Gates. Faramir told me of a way into Minas Morgul-though he fears the way. It is a trifle more risky for it passes by the Watcher that never rests. Nonetheless, it may be the best path in for it is rarely trafficked and no one remembers the path is there."

The sharp gasp of Aragorn's let Boromir know that the Ranger knew what path he was speaking of. Knew the legends that surrounded the place, "The stairs of Cirith Ungol," he confirmed softly.

"Is that not?"

"It is," he said. "And well you know it. But you bade me speak and so I did. To go that way is madness. Yet it is a saner course, I think, then going by way of the Dead Marshes and the Black Gates. With this path we know that there is a way in. The other may just lead us in death and destruction."

"Fordo, what think you of this plan?" Aragorn asked after a time. "Though the cross to lead us is mine to bear, I shall do as Gandalf did and follow your counsel. It is your choice for the path placed before you is yours to journey. We are here to aid you in any way we can."

The hobbit was silent, studying the flames in silence. Though wary of any advice Boromir may offer, this was a man who lived on the borders of Mordor. He, of them all, would know of this place and its might and weaknesses. And the tale had come from Faramir, a man who struck Frodo as an honest, earnest young man who truly desired none of the Ring and all Its shallow promises.

Yet Frodo could not prevent the shiver that wracked his body at the thought of actually going into the land he had heard so much about.

"This decision affects us all," he slowly said. "I do not wish to prolong making it, thus causing us a world of uncertainty. But I do not want to be rash and bring us more sorrow through a hasty and quick decision. I will tell you my decision after we pass the rapids for we will have to stop for a rest either way."

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Sauron turned to Angmar, "Keep an eye on the Tower of Isengard. Saruman has started to keep secrets from me now that I am no longer there to keep an eye on him."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Protect the strangers with the redhead but do not let them see you do it."

Bowing, "As you wish, my lord." So saying, he waited for further instructions. When none were forthcoming, he turned and left, taking three of the Nazgul with him.

Sauron went back to his contemplation of the land of Gondor. There was a new power there that was not using the palantir. Whoever it was had begun to rebuild the defenses and brought hope back to the downtrodden people.

It annoyed him.

"Call my Captain," he ordered sharply. Glancing out, he noted the time with anger. Soon, he would have to rest if he was going to retain this form. "I wish to have word of what truly is happening in Gondor."

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Faith, Angel, and Spike made their way slowly through the woods. It was rough going, the terrain was mostly rocky hills, densely packed with trees and broken monuments. Relics of a city that had once thrived here in splendor, they had fallen and been forgotten through time's often unforgiving reality.

The clarion call of a horn stopped them cold.

Angel closed his eyes and stretched out his senses. Extending them as far as he could, he picked up on all the information available to him. Dashing off, he called over his shoulder to the startled pair, though Spike seemed arrested by the sound. To Angel's discerning eye, it was the look of someone who had heard the sound before. "**_THIS WAY_**!"

"What is it?" Faith shouted, her stride easily matching theirs.

"The Horn of Gondor," Spike bit out.

Stumbling momentarily in shock and the thoughts that flew into her mind, hindering her movements with their intensity. _Boromir's horn_! They knew that it was only to be used at times of immediate distress and would bring aid quickly. But out here, they _were_ the only aid on hand.

Thoughts of failure flew through her mind. Amy's face, frozen in death appeared. Her watcher and others she hadn't rescued in time, buzzed like bees in her mind and she gritted her teeth. She would not fail now. Plying on the speed, anger powered her body to even greater potency.

As one force, they broke free of the trees and into the confused melee before them. Orcs colored the bright, sunlight green of the forest with their mottled shades of gray and black.

Withdrawing their weapons, they hurled into the fray, hacking a swath through the teeming masses, heading towards the origin of the sound. The forces pressed back against them, hindering their movements. The call sounded again, louder and more desperate than before, they winced at the sound.

Spike shouted, "Go get him, Slayer. We can handle these measly wankers."

Tersely nodding, she slammed through the opposition, a feral smile on her face. Sword slicing brutally and efficiently into those who got in her path, she quickly cut a path through their lines. Spike and Angel made sure to keep it clear by bringing the orcs to fight them.

One particularly ugly orc stood his ground. With the eye of a warrior, she took his measure and lashed out with a kick. Catching her leg, she used his hold on it to balance her as she kicked off the ground with her other leg, slamming it into the side of his face and jerking free of his slacked grip. Spinning around him, she jabbed her sword into the side of his neck even as she slammed his weapon into his back, snapping his spine completely.

Hearing Merry and Pippin's cries of dismay, she dashed off again. If that thing wasn't dead, she knew he soon would be. Coming into the clearing, she saw, to her enraged horror, a huge orc calmly shooting arrows into Boromir.

"**_YOU COWARD_**!" she yelled, using surprise to break the bow out in his hands. "What kind of warrior are you that you can't face an opponent on the open field of battle?"

Fueled by her fury-adding into it the strength of her rage over past injustices, she smoothly cleaved off his head. Glancing up, she saw the retreating backs of the orcs, bearing Merry and Pippin off.

Turning towards the sound of a newcomer, she saw Aragorn and she barked out an order to him. "See to Boromir!" Leaping over the fallen warrior, she took off after the hobbits, fearing for their safety.

"And don't you dare die before Buffy can take a whack at you!"

Aragorn knelt at his side, heart wrenching in his chest. "What happened?"

"Could not stay near the Ring," he stuttered, struggling for breath. The sound of death rattled in his chest as he looked up him. "Had to get away. Saw the orcs. Came to warn you. Frodo?"

"Is gone," he admitted, trying to pull out the arrows.

"To tale for me," he gasped, hand grasping his weakly. "See to Merry and Pippin. They bound them. Taken them captive."

"I am not going to let you die, Boromir. So do not dare do it." For the first time, the voice of a captain of men could be heard ringing in his voice. A change came over his face and he looked as a King should.

Boromir shakily draw in a ragged breath and shook with the reaction. "I would have followed you willingly but in this I fear that I cannot, my King."

"If not for me, do it for your friends. For you dear brother, Faramir," he pleaded, "Do it for the young ones, Merry and Pippin."

A sound brought their attention to a spot behind and below them. Legolas and Gimli emerged from the shadows and stopped, wishing to be respectful. Angel and Spike appeared at the other side, stopping in shock.

"Death is near," Angel whispered, holding out his hand to stop Spike.

Spike breathed sharply and stepped forward, ignoring his restraining hand. "We could stop it, mate. With your soul, he'd retain his. Red said so."

"That would not be right, condemning him to a half-life. He is our friend. I will not repay him by making him a monster."

Aragorn's head whipped towards them. "You could stop his death?"

"His physical death, yes. His eternal death, no."

"Do it," he demanded.

"You don't know what you're asking of me," Angel's head shook. "You would be condemning him to a life of eternal torment."

"I promised Willow that I would keep him safe. Do it."

"Aragorn," he started.

"I will stake you if you do not," he threatened. "Spike would do it, soul or no soul. Your choice."

Resigned to committing this monstrosity because of what he saw in Aragorn's eyes. By the fact that he could see no other way out, Angel moved forward. With Boromir barely hanging on, he knew that he would have to do it now, giving him no time to prepare. Spike and the others created a shade around them as he brought the man across.

Faith returned, shoulders slumped and frustrated tears denied freedom in her eyes. "They got away, crossing the River where I could not."

"They will go to Rohan and we shall be right behind them. It will be quite a run but we shall not let our friends remain in the clutches of the orcs while we still draw breath. Would you take Boromir to Gondor?"

"I'll take him to Lothlorian," Oz quietly announced his presence.

"**_OZ_**!" Faith gasped, shocked.

"Apparently, teleportation is something I can do," he shrugged. "And we're gone."

Faith sank onto the ground where Boromir had just been. "That's my Oz. Always knows how to make an entrance and when to go before he's overstayed his welcome. Not that he ever could, with me at least." Becoming aware of the stiffness in the atmosphere, she looked at them curiously. "Did I miss something?"

"Frodo and Sam have gone into Mordor," Aragorn said, feeling the burden of guilt over his actions settle upon his shoulders.

"We'll keep an eye out for them. Find Merry and Pippin," she said. "Bring them home."

"I hope you find Dawn. Protect Frodo if you can," he urged them. "Go by Cirith Ungol and avoid the Dead Marshes."

"We will," Angel stiffly said, not happy with his actions. Justified or not, Aragorn had been wrong to demand that he change Boromir into a vampire without the man's consent.

They parted then, little else to say to each other. Faith noticed that there was a new tension between the King of Brood and the King of Squirrels but ignored it. If it was something she needed to know, she'd find out.

One way or another.

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Oz and Willow stared at Boromir. "So, Angel really did it." Though he could see that something was off about the transformation.

"Yeah," she agreed. "But he's still breathing, still alive."

"Can you prevent the transformation?" he asked, turning away from the sight and looking over at her. It was less painful for all the signs of her lingering illness.

"Of course not, you idiot. I'm not some all powerful goddess, you twitted animal!" she snapped at him.

Oz stepped back, startled eyes on her.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, her hands flying to cover her mouth. "I don't know why I said that. I didn't mean it."

"No problem," he soothed. But kept watching her expression. Something was not right with this situation. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Nevertheless it was there, hiding somewhere in the shadow of her eyes.

"It is a problem, Oz. I shouldn't have let my worry and confusion cause me to snap at you like that. And I don't care if I'm not 110 percent, I shouldn't call you such unkind names," she berated herself.

"What's going on?" Giles asked.

"Not much," Oz said, gesturing towards Boromir's body.

Kneeling down, Giles felt the reedy pulses and a frown crossed his face. Shaking his head perplexed, he glanced for Willow and Oz to join him. "His body is both rejecting and accepting the change."

"Meaning?"

With a sigh, he replied. "I don't know. There is no precedent for this. Join me and we'll put him into a comatose state. This will neither heal him or harm him."

"But Giles," Willow protested, "We're leaving in an hour for Rohan. Who's going to take care of Boromir? He can't come with us."

Rubbing his neck, he sighed again. Things were spiraling out of control quickly and he couldn't find purchase in the familiar known. "We will just have to trust the elves to care for him. I will let them know what to do. Now, Willow, kneel beside his head. Oz, go to his other side."

Once they had moved into position, he held out his hands. They linked them tightly and waited, looking at him expectantly. "Willow, you are the focal point. We will channel our energies into you."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. Her eyes closed in preparation for the influx of power.

"Listen to me," he ordered sharply, noticing her action. She started and looked at him, eyes wide with shock at the tone in his voice. "You do not know what you are doing right now. This is not something that instinct can lead you in. Follow my lead. Clear your mind of all thought, all doubt. You too, Oz."

Breathing deeply and following his lead, they complied, allowing him to lead them through the complex spell. Willow felt the surge of power and held it in check until Giles gave the signal. Releasing it in a controlled stream, she held their hands, though part of her longed to follow it through to the end.

Once the power had dissipated, he spoke. "We must get the arrows out and tend to his wounds. Oz, go get some water and a knife. Willow, get some rags to wrap around them so that we don't prick ourselves. Once you've done that, get some bandages. And if either of you see Xander, send him in here."

"You wanted to see me?" he asked, stepping into the clearing.

"Yes, I'll need you to help me hold Boromir down while we remove the arrows. Haldir?" he asked in puzzlement, seeing the elf enter.

"Lady Galadriel sends these for the healing of your friend." He held out the vials in his hands. "They will help him heal much more cleanly."

"Thank you. Help Oz prepare them," he acknowledge the gift. "Willow, wrap some of the rags about your hands. Once you've done that, wrap the others about the arrow and slowly pull it out, gently rotating it as you do so."

Even as she followed his command, she asked. "Why? Won't that cause more damage?"

"No. Orc arrows are designed to cause the most damage going in and coming out. Once they enter the flesh, they spread out slightly and dig in. By rotating the arrow, you gently loosen the hold and minimize the damage."

"Uhm, ew," she shuddered, feeling the first pull free.

"Oz, the balm," he ordered, seeing the rising blood. "Willow, start on the next one. Xander, hold him steady. It's only going to get worse."

Gritting his teeth, he nodded in comprehension. "You're doing fine, Will. I know it hurts but it'll hurt worse if you stop. Keep calm."

"I know," she mumbled, "But I hate doing this."

"So do I," he said, sparing her a glance. Turning his attention back to the tense body beneath his hands, he joked. "Think of a happy."

"And that would be?" Once more, the arrow slid free with a sickening sound and she put it aside, moving to the next one. Hands shaking, she paused for a moment to breath deeply and rolled her shoulders, releasing the tension there.

"We'll get to see the reunion of Boromir and Buffy."

A picture of it flashed through her mind and she smiled. "Well, there is that."

Haldir watched the proceedings with a curious frown. After a time, he made a decision and gathered his courage. "May I ask a question of you Mistress Rosenberg?"

"Sure. Though I won't guarantee an answer," she said, holding onto the thought of reunion with her friend.

"How can you do this when I was informed that you had been robbed of your sight?" he asked, watching her as she tensed up before she visibly forced herself to relax. "Forgive me for my impertinence."

"No, it's all right. You should know for I was asked the same of Aragorn," she quietly told him. The one she'd been working on came free and she put it to the side. Taking a deep breath, she started to work on the next one before answering him. "I can feel the presence of the malice within the arrows. It guides me to their position as clearly as you see with your eyes."

"Still my timing could have been more opportune," he said, glancing to his right. An elf joined them quietly, watching them with a calm expression. "Halissa."

"Haldir," she returned the greeting, barely moving her head to acknowledge his presence as she moved to stand beside him.

"Wretched demon things," Willow cursed as the last slid free.

"Burn them," Giles ordered her.

"Gladly." She tossed them up high and ignited them instantly, leaving nothing behind-not even ashes.

The elves exchanged startled glances, not having expected to see such a thing. Halissa stepped forward, approaching Giles. "I will take care of Boromir while you are away. Please, tell me, what should I do?"

As Giles explained her task, the others cleaned up and prepared to depart. Satisfied that she understood, he joined them as they made their way towards Rohan. "How long will this journey take?"

"If we do not run into trouble, seven to eight days."

"So we should expect to be traveling for a while?" Xander joked.

"What?" he asked, not understanding the laughter that came after Xander's comment. It did not seem funny to him.

"Trouble is our number one travel companion," he explained after exchanging looks with the other two. "In fact, it is our best friend and life-long housemate. Trouble is the one thing you can count on us to always find."

"Or it finds us," Oz added.

Haldir remained silent, not sure how he felt about this statement. There was an air of truth to the words that bothered him. Yet there was no doubt in his mind, he knew they could handle it. He knew they came out of Moria, relatively in one piece, so they were more than able to take care of themselves.

He just was not sure that he could.

A soft hand rested on his arm and he started, not expecting to feel it. He could not believe that someone had snuck up on him. Looking down, he saw Willow's concerned face focusing intently upon him.

"Don't worry, Haldir. We'll protect you if thing get to bad. Just remember to duck when you're told," she advised him.

"That is very reassuring," he said. For once, his voice lacked the haughtiness of his race when dealing with mankind. There was no mockery in his face as he contemplated them.

Patting his arm once more, she left him to return to Xander's side. Haldir's eyes rested on her, wondering how such a strange girl as she was had become so acquainted with darkness and yet not let it taint her.

A few days into their journey, Haldir and Oz both paused, sniffing the air. "Fire," they said quietly. "Orc flesh," Oz added.

Giles breathed a sigh of relief. Eowyn had not misled him. There were still those in Rohan who fought the darkness. "Shall we press forward?" he asked, when they remained still.

"There is a Nazgul near," Haldir warned, mouth barely moving. "We must alter our course for a time." Waiting for no reply, he moved back into the shadows and led them on a more southeasterly course.

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_About Faith killing the orc instead of Aragorn I took this from the book. In the book, no one killed the orc. Aragorn came upon the scene after Boromir had fallen, though he was not dead just yet_.


	17. Reunions Are A Good Thing, Right?

_Author's Note and Thanks: I hadn't meant to post this just yet but with the new policy, I thought I better. I really hate the new policy. I think it sucks. Anyway, if something seems off, that's why. I looked over it but I sometimes I miss things. BTW-I returned Ilis' name to her. It is actually supposed Idis as created by Tolkien, referenced in "The Treason of Isengard", a book his son published that detailed all the work that went into "LoTR"._

_Marta: I'll send you that e-mail, I promise. Hopefully, the missing clears up a few things for you. If it doesn't, feel free to ask. I am more than happy to answer questions. Glad that the whole Boromir being saved from death wasn't upsetting. I was **really** worried about that._

_LadyDeb1970: Thanks for reviewing. I wanted to show that Aragorn was overcoming his fear of Sauron and valued Boromir. The whole Aragorn/Angel/Boromir twist, I worried over b/c it seemed such a departure from Aragorn's character. I am so glad it worked out well. Because, I just couldn't kill Boromir off. I've grown fond of the guy. I hadn't actually thought about writing a prequel with his time in Sunnydale. May be, if I can see a way to do it, I'll do so._

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Buffy thanked Idis once more for their aid and the loan of the horses. Though wary for she still had not gotten used to the feel of riding, she wanted to get moving. The inaction and uncertainty chaffed her.

"Do not mention it for I am going with you," Idis said.

"What? But you do not have to."

"Of course I do, Buffy. My nephew is such a headstrong, impetuous young man that I fear he would take you for bandits and strike you down rather than question you. I know you to be a capable warrior but they are human. I believe that you once mention a restriction upon your ability to fight humankind."

"Yeah," she bit her lip. "Forgot that."

"I did not," she said, noting the look on her face. "Do not worry over it. Though slayer you are, human you also are-and it is the human nature that shows through when you allow impatience to rule you."

"Human," she bitterly laughed. "Sometimes I wish that I was not."

"Never say that," Idis remonstrated her. "To be human is to be alive. I find those who live eternally to have a more sorrowful lot than we do."

"May be but at least I would no longer feel pain."

Idis had no answer for this and remained silent.

Following her lead, they traveled rapidly towards Meduseld. The journey was done in almost complete silence for they were set upon their course. It was the sound of approaching hoof beats that stopped them and they waited, tensely nervous to see who would appear over the hill.

Buffy's eyes widened as a large body of blond men, hair flowing in the breeze, crested the hill. The sun glinted off their armor, momentarily blinding her. The outsiders sat on their mounts, awed by the ease these large men possessed as they rode quickly, carrying rather large spears.

Idis and Connor were the only two who remained unmoved by this display. Riding to a position a bit ahead of the others, though not far enough to be cut off, Idis waited for them calmly.

One of the men broke away and rode up to her, halting his men behind him with one upraised arm even as he came to a stop. "Hail, Illis, Queen of the Shield Maidens."

"Hail, Eomer, sister's son," she returned the greeting, inclining her head. "What news have you of Theoden, King's land?"

"Strange tidings have I of an elf, a man, and a dwarf who seek to restore safety and peace to their friends, those known as hobbits from the Shire. To this our troubled lands in this most dark of days. More I would share with you but I must ask what purpose have you in leaving your land without your maidens in these dark and perilous times?"

"Strangers that I have met," she indicated those who waited behind her. She did not feel it best to mention, at that moment, that she carried a protector far more efficient than any warrior trained in their lands. Or any known lands. "I take them to the Golden Hall of my father for rest and aid."

"I wish you luck in your errand but I fear that will find no welcome there for the King is daily," he stopped, shaking his head. "Nay, even hourly being weakened by the poisonous bile of Wormtongue."

"Has the King fallen farther into his web?"

"He has refused to bury Theodred and has banished me." The cry of a child stopped his words and he looked over Idis' shoulder. His eyes studied them each in turn, taking in the details of each one and marking them personally. "But what of these strangers you have brought with you? From whence do they come that they sit so uneasily upon our most noble friends? That they dress in such a strange and clumsy fashion?"

"They are friends of Giles who was once companion to Theodred many years ago. Come forward," she called to them, noting with approval that Buffy took the lead. "That I might make you acquainted with my sister's son, Eomer." Behind the Slayer, slightly less enthusiastic, rode Wesley, Fred with the baby Connor, and Lindsey.

It had been her intention to leave him behind under the watchful eye of her second. But they had said that this Lindsey was to stay with them. She could not see why for he did not look as though he belonged with them.

Yet, they would not allow him to stay behind for all their ill ease with him.

Gesturing to each in turn, she called them by name and nothing else. Right now, there was no need to go into the specific calling each had. "They come from the world of Ripper who they call Giles, a place called Earth. Newly come here, they have yet to adapt to the horses they ride upon. And though no warm welcome may be found in Meduseld, still we shall go there. They would not be safe with us."

"Keep an eye ever watchful eye," he cautioned them. "And say nothing of Ripper for his name is known to us through his link with Gandalf. The King is even more displeased with him than before."

"We shall keep that in mind," Idis thanked him. "Where are you off to?"

"Though we have had no recent trouble with the orcs or the Wild Men of the North, I am warning our people to stay on the alert for there is still danger in the air. When we ran into that strange group, we had just defeated a party of orcs on the path to Isengard's tower. There have also been reports of a few scattered groups," he said, giving the strangers another glance. "By the way, have you seen any halflings? They would appear as children to our eyes," he asked them.

"We have not seen anyone outside of Idis and your men," Wesley informed him. Having recognized the description of the people he'd met in Lothlorian, he decided that it wouldn't hurt to ask for information about them. He'd known that Giles was going to attempt to get to Rohan. Not only for Willow's sake, but to see about aid in getting them home. "When you met this group, did they mention others like us? Or have you perhaps come across them in your journeys?"

"We have seen no one like you," Eomer replied, turning away when one of his men came closer and spoke to him in an urgent whisper. After a moment, he nodded and turned back to them. "I wish you speed on your way."

Without waiting for a reply, his head jerked towards the East and he and his men took off.

"How rude," Lindsey started to say.

"**SILENCE**!" Eyes narrowed in concentration, the queen's head was tilted eastward as she listened. "Wild men," she spat the words. **"Hurry! This way!"**

Spurring their horses as they'd been taught and hanging on for dear life, they passed where the Rohirrim had waited and went on. Idis deliberately swung wide of the path her nephew had taken and, though Buffy wanted to offer aid, she remained silent.

Passing beside a forest, Buffy shied away from it, though she could not say why. She only knew that she did not like the way it felt. It wasn't evil, this she knew. Yet it had a presence that she could not place for all that it felt familiar to her.

From the reactions of her comrades, she knew they felt the same way. Jerking her horse to a stop suddenly, she glanced in again. Blinking in disbelief, she leapt off, ignoring the startled cries as she went into the deep, darkness.

Tears streaming down her face, her joyous, "**WILLOW! XANDER! GILES! OZ**!", rang out into the forest before she practically lifted the redhead off of her feet and into a huge hug.

"**BUFFY!"** The cries rang out as they crowded around the two women, embracing them both. Wesley, Fred, and Connor joined them, all talking at once in the gloomy interior of the forest. Lindsey watched, a half-bored, half-envious expression on his face.

**"Ander**!" Connor squealed, patting Xander's face enthusiastically. "**Iles! Llow**!"

Haldir watched for a moment, uncertain of his place in this reunion. Finally, he cleared his throat and tapped Giles on the shoulder. "Danger is still near us. We should be going."

"Where?" Buffy flatly demanded, not letting go of her friends. She stared at him, hostility in her eyes. There was something about this guy that just didn't seem quite right. In fact, he felt totally wrong to her perception. Not demonic or evil, just wrong.

"To Theoden's," Giles gently said, sparing Haldir from further scrutiny. _Not that it would do any good_, he thought, _Buffy's Slayer senses are probably going even now_.

"What a coincidence. That's where we're going," she said. "I'm sure that Idis can show us the rest of the way. You are no longer needed."

"Idis?" Giles repeated, moving away. Once able to see clearly, he recognized her. "It is good to see you once again, though these are far from happy times."

"And you," she replied, smiling. "Though I could wish for a better place than Fangorn for our reunion."

"Oh, Fangorn isn't so bad." He started to say more but stopped, shaking his head as a familiar sight met his eyes. "Oh, Willow. What are we to do with you," he breathed out the question, though he wasn't sure he minded. This would make things easier.

"Buffy, be nice," Willow semi-scolded, leaning back a bit. "Haldir is not the enemy here."

"He doesn't feel normal," she declared.

"Oh," Willow giggled, "He's an elf. He's what they were like in the ancient myths and legends of the Celtic lands. They are supposed to look like that. The kind that we know of from the Santa myth are elves transformed. He's the real deal, precursor of angels."

"I see," she slowly said, though she didn't really.

"No," Xander contradicted, finally getting Connor's hands under control. His cheeks stung a little from the playful pats. For all his human traits, the boy had definitely inherited his parents' strength. "But you will. They are all over the place."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she dryly said. "Where's everybody else?"

"Getting Dawn," Xander shrugged.

"You found her? Is she safe? Where is she?" she demanded, tightening her grip on Willow slightly.

"Define safe in a war torn world," Oz commented.

Willow told her, shaking her head at Oz's words. "She's fine right now. Because of who she really is, she sorta got stuck between our world and this one. But she's slowly coming out of that phase and into normality. Plus, there is a very powerful spell of protection around her. I'm not sure of who is responsible but it is keeping her safe from the evil that abounds in this place."

Buffy narrowed her eyes, knowing a Willow evasion when she heard it. Before she could press for details, the ground rumbled and shook beneath their feet. It was so similar to an earthquake, that Buffy had a moment to wonder where they could take shelter. "What was that?" she asked in the ensuing silence.

"Treebeard's friend," Willow replied calmly.

"Who is Treebeard?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know. It's just a name I heard on the breeze," she shrugged. "They're coming this way for a meeting of some kind. We might want to leave before they all arrive."

"Sounds like a plan," Buffy muttered, leading them out into the sunlight. Stopping, she noticed a few new horses waiting. "What? Where did these horses come from?"

"Oh, they came," Willow exclaimed, sounding genuinely surprised. "I'm so glad."

"You know these horses?" Wesley asked, shocked. He hadn't thought any of them had known how to ride, save Giles.

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "We rode these guys earlier." Walking over to one, she whispered softly to it. "I missed you guys. Thank you for coming," she stroked his nose lovingly.

"You talk to horses," Lindsey said incredulously.

"Yeah," she replied in a 'no, duh' tone of voice. "Aren't you a little genius at stating the obvious?"

"**Willow**!" Buffy gasped.

"Sorry," she apologized, not exactly sure why she should. It wasn't as if her comment was all that rude. "They're willing to take us wherever we need to go, so long as we don't forget that they don't belong to anyone. And that we take care of them, not allow others to, they know us and feel comfortable with our touch."

Once mounted, they headed off towards Meduseld.

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Faith walked ahead of the vampires, keeping low to the ground. It had been a few days since they'd parted company with the Fellowship and the evil in the air was getting thicker and heavier. They knew this meant they were drawing closer to this Cirith Ungol. The closer they got, the more they felt that they were being observed.

She didn't like it one bit.

Tensing slightly, her fist whipped out even as she tucked and rolled away. A cry of pain rewarded her quick punch and she took a fighting stance as she rose. Noticing that her companions did not get ready, that they kept a neutral position, had her eyeing them warily.

And set off alarm bells within.

**"What? ****Are? You? Doing?"**she bit out the words.

"Humans, pet."

Grumbling, she rose to her feet and raised her hands slightly as she stood in place. "Well, we can't stay here like this all day. There's a certain someone we have to rescue remember? And I wouldn't do that if I were you." Her voice and posture did not change.

Still, the warning was clear enough that it caused the man to pause. Turning about, she critically eyed him. "You're either one of Strider's people," she paused and let that name sink into his mind, "Or Faramir's."

"You know of Strider?" he asked.

"I know of a ranger who called himself that," she snorted. "Problem is, that isn't his only name. Most recently, we have taken to calling him…Aragorn." As much as she wanted to-and she could hear Spike stifling a laugh-she figured it was best not to call him squirrel boy.

Giving a birdcall, two others joined them, eyeing the group suspiciously. "What are you doing traveling the path to Cirith Ungol?"

"What does it look like?" Spike retorted. "We're taking in the lovely scenery. Our business is not your concern."

"The business of those who would travel to Mordor _is_ our business," he replied coolly. "I would have thought Strider would have told you this."

Angel cleared his throat, warning Spike to say no more. "He did not think it necessary to tell us of you. We'll say no more until you have introduced yourselves."

"And what of you? Do we not get to know your names?"

"You have been following us for three and a half days," Angel replied unperturbed by his attitude. "You already know our names."

Though surprised to be caught, he inclined his head. "I am Halbarad, of the Dunadain. My companions have not earned their names. Therefore I cannot introduce them."

"Very well," Angel said, accepting the introduction, a slight bite in his words. "What we are doing is no threat to Middle-Earth. And, as my companion has already said, it is not your concern. Stay out of our way and we'll stay out of yours."

"Because you are rescuing someone," he skeptically said, "From Mordor?"

"Got a problem with that?" Faith challenged, wondering if all the Rangers were this dense.

"No none who goes in ever comes back," he told them. "Of course I have a problem with seeing people throw away their lives so uselessly, especially a woman."

Faith bristled at the implication. "Listen, you half-witted…" she bit off the words and continued, with a great deal of effort. "I know more of a warrior's way than you can possibly imagine. Do not for one moment judge me by my sex. I will out track, out last, and out fight you or anyone else any given day. Or night."

"Brave words," he mocked her. "But brave words will not help you in Mordor."

"I only speak words because I do not wish to fight you. But if you require a demonstration of my true abilities, bring it on."

"Your woman speaks with much brazenness."

Without warning, Angel dropped. Faith's bow was already releasing an arrow. The sound of it hitting its mark was clearly heard as prey screeched.

"Orc," Faith simply said as she let several more arrows fly before glancing at Angel, who rolled over and nodded. Drawing her sword, she followed his lead and left the Rangers far behind.

They stayed in position for a stunned moment before going after them. Though small in number, the preternatural strength of the outsiders and the unique skills of the Rangers beat back their foes.

Wiping her brow, she leaned against a tree, lazily blowing on the pipe Pippin had made for her. It was soothing, watching the clouds of smoke drift up and disappear into the darkening sky. "Still think I'm incapable?" she asked, glancing over at Halbarad challengingly. "Cause I'll be more than happy to prove myself to you."

"That is quite all right, though I still believe your errand to be a foolish one."

"That's fine. We're not asking you to join us."

Angel only glared half-heartedly at Spike, no true enmity behind it. Looking at Halbarad, he said. "Aragorn has gone to Rohan. It would be best if you joined him. He is going to need all the help he can get in the coming days. You'll only slow us down."

"Do you even know where you are going?" For the first time, the man Faith had socked spoke up. His voice was quiet, almost feminine in its tenor, revealing his very young age.

"We got the instructions from Aragorn," she shrugged, tapping out the pipe and crushing the embers under her foot. "And we have an uncanny ability to find our way. Don't fear for us."

"Ready to go?"

"Lead on, oh, great one," Faith quipped, pushing off of the tree. Her pipe already doused and out of sight.

Spike rose as well, a grimace on his face. "Whither thou goest," he started, finishing even thought Angel sent him a pained look. May be even _because_ of it. "I goest for you are my own true leader, my Yoda."

"Funny," he groused. "But I always thought that Willow was our Yoda."

"She is. But she turned leadership over to you," he pointed out as they walked off. They were some distance away from the rangers before he leaned closer, asking. "Pick up on the hobbits yet?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "They were joined by a sour smelling being. I don't like it."

"Gollum. And if you knew what I do about him, you would more than dislike it. He is more than sour smelling," he muttered.

"Do you guys know how disturbing your conversation sounds?" she asked from behind them. "To quote Cordy, "**_EW_**!"."

"Speaking of Cordelia," Angel began, fighting a slight smile at the perfect mimicry of her.

"Must we?" she asked, smiling at his stern look. "Sorry. Old habit, you know."

"I wonder how she's doing," he finished, ignoring her comment.

"Knowing her, I'd say the Queen of Mean is finding her feet. It's the people of Gondor I would worry about."

"Slayer's got a point," Spike agreed, glaring at her. "And if you tell anyone I said that, I'll gear your throat out."

"With what? A sharp retort?" she asked.

Smiling evilly, "I'll ignore the pain, luv."

"Sure you will," she mocked lightly.

"You were saying about Cordelia," Angel pointedly interrupted to remind them of their conversation which was more important than the one they were currently having.

"If anyone can adapt and survive in any place," he said, rolling his eyes, "in any situation, it is Cordelia."

"I know," he told them with a sigh. "It isn't that at all. What I'm worried about is the effects of long-term possession upon her. Remember, it's not exactly Cordelia we're dealing with here. I fear for her mind. She's strong but I am afraid. I fear that this possession will affect her in a way similar to what Drusilla went through."

That was a sobering thought. As a human being, Drusilla had been slightly batty. But under Angelus' obsession, she had truly lost her mind. They moved along in silence, each thinking about the situation-and their friends.

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Tara came out of her meditation, fresh and clear headed. Inside, her heart beat excitedly for she was almost certain she had the solution to Glory's problem. It had been so simple, so obvious, she wasn't sure why she hadn't thought about it before.

Still, she was not completely sure it would work.

And she would not go before Glory without total knowledge, no matter how tempting it was. In this case, false hope was less than nothing. For this to work, it had to be fixed. It had to be definite knowledge or it was no good to them.

Yet, the taste of attaining her goal hung in the air. It was thick and she felt it vibrating through her. Filling her up and driving her wild with possibilities. Pushing her powers higher than she'd ever gone before.

At least, alone.

"My little witch, what have you accomplished this day? I feel strong magic in the air and know that you have been met with success. Have you found a way to my Key?"

"Not quite," she whispered, startled to hear her voice. Facing her, she explained what she had found. "The Key is well hidden, protected by powers that I cannot see beyond. But I believe that we can go straight into Middle-Earth. There was a girl of unusual powers who was sent there in the beginning."

"Yes? What of the Slayer?"

"Not the Slayer," she gently contradicted. Her head bowed, she waited for the punishing blow. When nothing happened, she went on. "Powerful as she is, she isn't the one we want for her power exists outside of what I can access. What I can manipulate for our personal use. No. I am talking about another girl-one you have tangled with before," she stopped, seeing the recognition in her eyes.

"The redhead witch," Glory stated. There was no question about it for there was no reason for doubt. Within that group, there was only one person who Tara could be referring to. It almost made her glad that the girl had escaped her grip.

Tara nodded, a smile curving her lips. Rising, she held out the book that contained the information that sent her down this path. Once Glory had read it, she said. "If we had something of hers, something that was a part of her, we could use it in a triadic of power to open a door."

"There is no way that she would help us."

Glancing up, she slyly asked. "Who says she would know?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are ways to do these spells that don't require full consent. If we do it right, she will never know that it is happening. This redhead emotes magic, she leaves a trail of it behind her. We merely gather it together and use it."

A slow smile crossed her face. "Will it take long?"

"To gather?" she asked, making sure they were on the same page. "A few hours, may be less depending on how much she's used lately."

Though disappointed with the delay, Glory did not let it show. The last thing she needed was to lose this witch for, while she had the powers of darkness to call upon, she did not have the link that Tara did with this earthly power.

As much as she hated it, she would have to rely on Tara for assistance.

"See to it."

"I would be honored to," she bowed. "Shall I come to you when I am done? Or do you wish to watch me?"

"My most gracious lady, there is someone here to see you," a servant groveled at the door, trembling at her audacity in interrupting her goddess' business.

Tightening her lips, displeased at the interruption, she nodded. "I will see to this intruder myself. Tara, do what you will. Let me know when you are nearing completion for that is something I wish to see."

"Yes, my Lady."

Glory turned and walked past her servant and saw, "Morgan," she sneered at the lady lawyer. "What are you doing here?"

Lilah blandly stared back at her. Impressed as she was, the woman did not make her tremble in fear. "I am here to help you, of course. We have not heard from you in some time and wondered if there was something you wished."

"You can help me best by leaving." She walked into her room, dismissing the lawyer from mind. While she had accepted the aid of Wolfram and Hart in riding herself of the meddlesome monks and the Knights, she no longer desired their aid. They annoyed her to no end with their endless demands.

"My Lady, there must be something that I can do for you. Anything we have is at your disposal. It is yours to command."

"Now that you mention it, I am feeling a little…" Whirling about, she sealed the doors and placed her hands on Lilah's head. After a moment, the lawyer slid to the ground, eyes blank. "Never mind. My dear ones!" she called out.

"Yes, our most gracious and beautiful lady goddess who is the reason for our very existence?"

"Send Ms. Morgan back to her bosses with a message. Tell them that if I desire their aid, I shall call them. If they send me another one of their lackeys, I shall be most displeased and turn my anger upon them. I hope they understand that our partnership is at an end-unless I so desire to renew it. Do you think that you dears could handle that for me?"

"All shall be done as you wish, most exalted one."

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Saruman paced the chamber that housed his books. In the distance, he could see the coldly glowing palantir. It was not summoning him yet but Saruman knew that it would only be a matter of time before it did.

He did not know what he would do when that happened.


	18. Are We Safe Yet?

_Author's Note: This is a missing chapter that desperately needed adding because it connects a few dots that needed connecting-like Giles and Gandalf meeting, them arriving in Meduseld, and the reaction to Boro's condition._

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They rode up to Meduseld and Idis felt the change in the air. It made her pause and look about, taking in the changes that were more than just spiritual. While it as true that she felt more alive, more free than she had in the past making this same journey and that hope came alive within her that the predictions of doom from Eomer would not prove true, there was something else.

The town about the Great Hall was alive. There was a newness about it, a revitalizing energy that pervaded the hill. Houses were being reconstructed, renewed for the coming travails that beset them. People wore brighter clothes, dressing up to show that they did not fear what fate awaited them at the hands of their enemies.

It was a heartening sight.

"Is everything all right?" Wesley asked, watching her with concerned eyes. The woman was an uncanny judge of the hidden underpinnings of the mystic and had become a compass he studied for guidance. This behavior she was exhibiting was bothersome.

"The air, the land," she slowly replied, searching for the proper words. "It is no longer heavy with betrayal and decay. The heartache has been lifted. Something has changed."

"IDIS!"

"Eowyn," she gasped, quickly dismounting and rushing to her niece. Reaching up, she embraced the younger woman eagerly. "You have grown so tall, sister daughter. Tell me, what has happened here?"

"Theoden, King has been restored to himself. Gandalf," she started to tell them, looking about her curiously. The strangers especially felt the piercing study in her gaze.

"Excuse me?" Giles asked, startled into interrupting their conversation. Moving forward after dismounting, he questioned her, "But did you just say Gandalf?"

"She did," a familiar voice said, carrying evenly and clearly over the rushing wind that was so natural to this area. "And I believe that I once said that death is not always the end to a journey. Miss. Rosenberg, I was told that you released the Ring from Its imprisonment."

Willow felt the indiscernible change in him and drew back into the saddle, playing with the reigns. "It was taking my strength and giving it to Its Master. Sauron had taken mortal flesh for a time due to my stupidity."

"That I know. What I do not know is why none of you thought to tell us what happened before things got so bad?" Piercing eyes fell upon Giles, demanding an answer from him.

"It seemed to be an inconsequential thing," he said weakly. "When so many other things were occupying my mind, I did not think upon it."

"No. You did not. And because you did not, our world was visited by Sauron as a flesh and blood being. Though I do not know all of what he has done, many things that should not have been set in motion, have been."

"Our very presence did that," Oz quietly observed. Of them all, the werewolf was the only one who was not affected by this surprise. "Things that could not be predicted have occurred because of us. One cannot change what has already happened, one can only deal with it."

"You are correct," Gandalf replied after a tense silence. "Is there more you wish to share with us?" It was a pointed statement.

The watcher flushed hearing it and knowing that he meant Boromir's condition. Giles wondered how he could've possibly known about it before shrugging it off. There were things Gandalf knew through channels that only he had access to.

He thought a moment before rejecting the idea of telling him openly. There was nothing either of them could do-and would only worry Buffy needlessly. Not to mention make her incredibly angry at Aragorn-and him for allowing this to happen. Thinking about her, he waved her forward.

The others came with her, taking a look at the wizard they'd only heard about. "Only one thing comes to mind that I think you should know about immediately. As you can plainly see, more of my friends have come to us. This is Gandalf, my old tutor. Gandalf, may I introduce you to Buffy Summers, Lindsey MacDonald, Fred Burkle, and Wesley and Connor Whyndham-Pryce."

"I don't think I like you," Buffy said by way of introduction.

"You are not required to do so," he replied, looking over her. She was much like Giles had described her. And yet, as with Faith, she was infinitely more. Turning at the sound of approaching feet, he nodded in greeting. "Theoden King."

The King nodded, acknowledging him but he was focused on his daughter. "Idis, Queen. It has been a long time since you have come to Meddlesed without an invitation. It is good to see you once more."

Bowing, she came over and spoke quietly. Respectfully. As she did so, she took in how healthy he looked. "It has been some time since I have felt welcomed here as anything but a faithful servant to my king."

His eyes closed, sorrow in his face as he accepted her words. "I a sorry for my weakness in allowing Wormtongue to gain a hold over me so strong that I have made my loved ones feel sorrow and pity over me. Thanks to my faithful friends and Gandalf's truth, the shackles have fallen from my eyes. I have missed you."

"Father," she breathed, forgiveness and love in her words. Accepting his embrace, she allowed herself a moment to breath in his healthy scent before pulling back. "I have brought guests, who brought their friends."

"I am delighted to meet you," he said, encompassing them all in his glance. "Though I believe that introductions should be made inside. This wind is becoming brutal. Once you have cared for your mounts, please join us in the Great Hall."

"If you would follow me, I will show you were you may stable your horses," Eowyn quietly spoke, turning away and walking towards the stable. She watched them curiously as they cared for the horses. Her eye turned in interest upon the horses Giles and his group had ridden. "I have never seen such wondrous horses. Tell me, from whence do they come?"

"They came to us through enchantment," Giles answered slowly, exchanging looks with Oz over Willow's head. "More than that, I am not at liberty to say."

"I see," she said, though she did not. Then again, they were dressed in the clothes of elves, they must be elven animals. "Please, come with me. I am sure that you are anxious of getting inside to where there is warmth and food. Where there is some measure of safety and joy to be found after your perilous journey."

A familiar greeting sounded as they entered the building. Jugs of ale, words, and stories were exchanged rapidly as they reunited with Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn. While there was not much understood in the noisy and joyous chaos, they were made to understand that Frodo and Sam had gone on into Mordor. And that Merry and Pippin had found their way in Fangorn Forest, but were safe in the care of a guardian there.

Buffy noted the way Aragorn stayed in the background, just close enough to bask in the glow of the group's camaraderie. A suspicious thought came to mind. Deciding to speak to Giles later, she followed the group as they walked closer to the fire glowing in the room, warming her hands near the flames.

Keeping a careful eye on Willow's movements, she noticed the confident way the redhead walked. Buffy knew that it would be some time before she accepted that her friend was all right. She couldn't forget the feeling of darkness, of pain, that had pervaded her dreams all to often.

Idis saw Eowyn walking off to the side and followed her, laying a hand on her arm. "Are you feeling well?" her voice was soft, gentle, so as not to arouse the suspicions of the others in the room.

"Earlier today, we buried Theodred. It was...hard. Tell me, have you seen Eomer?"

"We met him on our way here," she said. "I believe that was a day or so ago. They were on their way to battle the Wild Men. He appeared to be in good health-and sent word for us to be wary of Wormtongue. Where is he? Has father imprisoned him?"

"Wormtongue has been allowed to flee," she flatly-and viciously-declared. "Gandalf broke the spell and Theoden sent him on his way, feeling pity upon him. Gandalf is no longer gray but white."

"Saruman?"

"Is still in Isengard as far as we have been told. He has fortified it and damaged Fangorn's borders. Though I have no special love for the woods, I weep at the thought of the destruction it has gone through. And how are things for you and your ladies? Is all well in your lands?"

"We have had less trouble of late-which worries me. I see many new faces. What has happened here?" Idis redirected the conversation, anxious to know the news from the heartland of her home.

"Refugees," Eowyn sighed. "They have been coming for sometime now for the Wild Men of the North have been harassing them once again. They have done nothing outright that would justify us in attacking them, thus our people have sought safety within Meduseld's walls. Theoden is ordering the men to leave for Helm's Deep ere morning comes. Shall you be joining them?"

"If the call comes, I will answer it. But I believe that I shall be returning home," she replied, hearing the cold wistfulness in Eowyn's voice. "What of you, sister-daughter? What is your task?"

"I am to stay here, to rule until return Theoden does. And if fall in battle he may, then to ride out as Heir Apparent to join the battle for Gondor to repel the forces of Mordor, avenging my Lord's death."

There was some bitterness within her words for all that they lacked the steel of harder disappointment. Eowyn knew her duty. She was born and bred to fulfill it-no matter how much it may hurt.

"What of your brother, Eomer?"

"Theoden has not yet had the opportunity to reinstate him. But shall my brother desire the crown, I will gladly give it to him for I desire it not. Come, Idis, let us join the merry making for this sound of joy has not sounded here in many years."

After a while, Buffy managed to pull Willow aside, "So this is Boro's home world. Where is he, Willow?" she asked, noticing the way her friend averted her head. "Is he all right?" She didn't know why she asked; she could see the answer in Willow's posture.

Chewing her lip to stop the snappish reply that rose, demanding to be released, she avoided looking at her. Strangely, there was pain in denying the words release. Yet, she couldn't say them for they were mean spirited.

"He lies in Lothlorian, recovering from his injuries," Aragorn softly answered for her, announcing his presence.

Whirling around and pining him with a glare, "Do you mind? I don't think I was talking to you," Buffy stopped. The meaning of his words hit and her eyes narrowed. Voice going dangerously low, she practically attacked him with her words. "What do you mean he's injured? Boromir is a great fighter. He survived what the Hellmouth threw at him. How could he have gotten injured?"

"Even the strongest of warriors may fall if they are overwhelmed by sheer numbers," he quietly said, taking an involuntary step back. For all his past experience with Faith, he had thought that he had been prepared for Buffy. As he looked at her, he knew he was wrong.

Faith's power had been raw. Potent. But it had been mostly unfocused. She went with the flow, allowing it to empower her with its desires. She did not control it so much as let its passions control her.

Buffy's power, on the other hand, was an example of controlled passion and focused strength. Tempered and sharp like a sword's blade, she wielded it easily. Her strength was hers-and she knew it. She never let it escape from her grip.

Two very different women-for they definitely could **_not_** be called girls-with the same desire and purpose.

"If that is true-and I suppose I must believe it-why was he left alone to fight against these foes?" She'd stalked towards him, trapping him in a corner, her eyes giving him no quarter.

By this time, Willow had finally gained control over herself. She couldn't quite understand what was happening to her, why she seemed to be battling against her own self. "Buffy, stop threatening Aragorn for the foes are more numerous here. An entire army of orcs was sent after the eight of them."

"And why were you only eight if you were going into enemy territory?" Though she moderated her tone, she had yet to step back.

"We were trying to sneak in under Sauron's lidless, all seeing eye," he explained, squirming under the intent look and her stance.

"News flash," she snapped at him, "It didn't work."

"I know that. You have no idea how much I wish that I was the injured one and not him for he has been a great friend to me over the journey. But it is not and there is nothing I can do to change that," he pointed out. "Nothing except end this reign of darkness to make this world a safer place."

Her eyes bored into his. Slowly, she stepped back, relaxing her stance a little. "See that you do. I will be watching you."

With those fatal words, she turned and joined Giles.

Aragorn exhaled deeply, slowly relaxing. "Is she always that…intense?"

"Well, you did fail to keep her brother safe," she pointed out, almost dryly. "In fact, you allowed him to become a vampire. What were you thinking to do such a thing? Were you even thinking? When I asked you to keep him safe, that was **_not_** what I meant. You do realize that if he fully embraces the vampire within, you will lose everything you've worked so hard for. And gained two very powerful enemies?"

He nodded, extending his hand weakly-shocked when she accepted it. Gently, she tugged it until he moved into hugging range and embraced him. Feeling her arms surround him broke his fragile control and he held her closer, shaking within her embrace.

"What else could I do? Boromir was _dying_," he cried, the words muffled by her hair.

Awkwardly patting his back, she murmured soothing nonsense, much like Giles had done for her. "I'm sure you did what you thought was right. But, Aragorn, it wasn't very bright-and you will have to live with this decision even if Boromir comes through still a human being. Even if he forgives you for forcing that transformation upon him, you will still have to deal with the guilt. And that's before Buffy and Faith find out what you did."

"Do not remind me," he groaned. Pulling away, he asked, struck by something. "Why are you not upset? I failed in my task. I was unable to protect your brother."

"As much as you hate to admit it, Aragorn, you are _human_. You make mistakes. **_I_** make mistakes," she smiled humorlessly. "Need I remind you of the Ring? I made a dumb, stupid, but utterly human mistake. I judged the Ring's power by the fact that It was so simple, so small. I decided that It was not such a great threat because of that."

Aragorn was surprised by the viciousness in Willow's voice when she referred to her own actions. Surely she did not blame herself for what had happened? Sauron and his forces had always been strong. It had nothing to do with her actions that day.

"Willow?" he asked, stopping, not sure what to say. He was not a close friend of hers, after all. How was he to know how she reacted when she had an error in judgment? When she made an all to human mistake, as she would put it?

With a sigh, she rubbed her head. "Sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Lately, I've been feeling off."

"I thought you were getting better."

"So did I," she muttered. "I think I'm going to lie down for a bit. Would you excuse me while I search for someone to show me to a room, Aragorn?"

"Of course," he hesitated, and then decided he did not have anything to lose. "Would you like me to walk you over to Lady Eowyn?"

"I'm hardly an invalid," she commented.

"I never said you were," he retorted mildly.

Giving him a tiny smile, she refused. Aragorn watched her go, turning to see Oz standing behind him. Blinking in shock because he had not felt him arrive, he shook his head in amazement. "Quieter than an elf."

"I'll take that as a good thing," he replied. "I think she's suffering from the Ring."

"What?" Aragorn exclaimed, horrified at the thought. "But I thought that Its power over her ceased when It was released."

"True, that is what should have happened. But It did not release her. She let It go."

"What difference does that make?" he asked.

Oz steadily watched him. "You already know that. The Ring has…"

"A will of Its own," Aragorn finished on a whisper.

"All the more reason to make haste this day," Gandalf announced, walking away from the corner he'd been standing in. Though greatly disturbed by his conversation with Giles, and the things he was hearing about Willow's joining with the Ring, it did not show on his face. "There is much for me to do and not enough time to do it in. Look for me on the third day's dawn. Put aside you fears, Aragorn. Theoden will need your advice now that I am leaving."

"But…"

"Look to your friends, not your doubts, for counsel, Aragorn." Mounting Shadowfax, he turned his head towards Isengard. "I shall see you in Helm's Deep."

And then he was gone in a white robed mist.

"And Faith thinks I'm cryptic," Oz commented.

As Gandalf rode on, he trusted Shadowfax to lead them straight and true on the path before them. His mind drifted back to the conversation he had had with Giles and frowned mightily, not liking it one bit.

"_What have you allowed to be done?"_

"_What have I?" Giles sputtered, eyeing him in angered disbelief. "I have allowed nothing to be done. You give me far to much credit, my old mentor. Without being able to fully access my abilities-a burden, if I might remind you-you left on my shoulders, there is not much that I alone can do."_

"_Yet there is much that you can do. Much you should have done. What were you thinking? Letting Boromir go off to Mordor when the Ring was free. He was the prime candidate for seduction. Now, he is a vampire."_

"_Has his body accepted the change then?" he asked apprehensively._

"_It will not be long before it does. Did it not occur to you to listen to the signs you were given of the imminent danger he was in?" he asked. He was not quite sure he could understand how one with Giles' gifts could ignore the warnings of impending danger._

"_If signs there had been, they were not given to me. The first indication I had of Boromir's danger was when I looked into Galadriel's mirror. By then it was too late to do anything for they were nearing the falls. I immediately spoke to Willow, Xander, and Oz. We came to the conclusion that to interfere in the situation now would place Boromir in even greater danger. And you should not write him off so lightly," he harshly said. "Though a man Boromir may be, he is a unique individual. He knows what vampires are…"_

"_They are not the same in our world as your own," he acidly interjected as Buffy approached them, he face radiating anger. Correctly reading Giles desire to wait until much later to inform her of Boromir's fate-and not quite willing to see what this particular enraged Slayer was capable of-he warningly said, "We shall speak more of this later."_

Gandalf knew that they would have to talk, but there were more important things he had to concentrate upon. The fate of all of Middle-Earth hung in the balance. And he could not see anyway to turn that corner, to help restore it to where it needed to be. Turning his mind away from the troubling situation of Boromir, he focused all his energy upon finding both Eomer and his men to aid the King.

And getting to Isengard to ask the Ents for their help, he knew they would be needed. He also felt that they would dearly love to help them win this victory for it would honor the memory of their fallen comrades.

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Willow slowly dropped onto the bed and dreamed of fire. Of unimaginable pain and unholy terror.

She woke with a scream.

"Will, what is it?" Buffy asked, entering at a run. Her slayer senses on full alert, she searched the room for threats-and found none. Shaking her head, she walked over to the window and gazed about. Nothing had been disturbed.

Still, there was something wrong here. There was something in the air that teased her, making her feel that she should know it. It was familiar to her. Narrowing her eyes, she realized where she'd felt it before.

In the presence of the Master Vampire right before he took her life.

Giles and Oz stood; waiting in the doorway. Something had happened. Both _daemons_ could feel it pulsing in the air, twining about their senses. Yet, neither could focus on it, fearful of upsetting the balance of power they could feel pulsing in the room.

Xander pushed past them. With little fear, he sat down on the bed, resting a hand on her shaking arm. "You okay, Will?" he asked, recognizing the look on her face with one of dread. "What did you see?"

Taking a deep breath, Willow released it with the words, "my death."

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Glory and Tara stood, waiting. "Are you sure this will work?"

"I can't be sure until I test it out," Tara quietly said, reading over the spells again. She was trying to commit it to memory so that they would not have to bring it with them. "But I am as sure as I can be considering the source we used."

"Then get on with it," she snapped, softening her tone immediately when Tara looked at her, face full of fearful sadness. Though it pained her, she knew that she must be more mindful of the girl. She still had her uses. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to take my frustrations out on you. It is not your fault that my Key was stolen."

"I know. You just want to take back what's rightfully yours," she soothed her, hoping that she would not be proven a liar. She didn't know what she'd do if she was wrong, didn't know what Glory would do if she was wrong about this. "If I'd been robbed, I'd want it back quickly. You have been more patient with the delays that have been caused by the thieves than I believe that another would be."

Her smile was sickeningly sweet-and completely false. "Tara, darling, you are just to good to me. You really are."

"I am only repaying you for all that you and Ben have done for me," she shrugged off her words. She didn't mention Ben much, seeing a strange look on Glory's face whenever she did. She thought it might've been the results of a fight the two had had for Ben didn't come by much-and never when Glory was around.

Glory said nothing, just gestured for Tara to go ahead. Even as she waited, she couldn't help but feel a chill of something in the atmosphere. Something was not quite right with this place. The Hell Goddess just couldn't put her finger on it.

She just knew that she didn't like it.

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Entering the darkness after Gollum, Sam felt extremely uneasy. The scent of death, decay, and deception hung heavily in the air, poisoning it. "Master Frodo," he started to say, trailing off for he did not know how to put his feelings into words.

"Yes, Sam, I know," he sighed, sparing his friend. "I feel it too. There is nothing we can do about it though. We must follow him through to the end of this path for he knows the way in and out."

"I do not trust him," Sam muttered, glancing darkly off into the dark path before them. "To bad we do not have Faith or Gimli here. They would knock some sense into him."

"Sam, do not say such things. He is what I can easily become were I to allow the Ring to take hold of me." It was the first time he had ever put his fear into words. At least, it was the first time he had spoken them to Sam and he hoped that his friend would understand what he was trying to say.

"I am sorry, Master Frodo. I did not think…Hey!" he called out, watching as Gollum disappeared into one of the caverns many confusing caves that surrounded them. His voice echoed eerily in the cavern.

"Wait up!" He made a conscious effort to leave off any insulting phrases or words as he had done so often in the past. It was hard for him to do so because he just could not bring himself to think of Gollum fondly. Could not think of him with anything but suspicion. All that the creature had done had only made him suspicious of his motives. Promise to help them notwithstanding.

Yet, Frodo's grateful look made his efforts worth it.

"Shhhhh, Master's friend should be quiet. She will hear you," Gollum hissed, quickly coming back to them, his eyes roving the cavern fearfully. Fiercely whispering, "She is not at home now. Hurry, hobbits. We must be gone before she gets back from hunting."

"She?" Sam asked, putting himself in position to best protect and defend Frodo.

"Shelob," Gollum spat out the name. "Spider. Likes fresh meat like hobbits. Come on, hobbits before comes back, she does."

"Great," Sam muttered.

They crept along quietly, keeping to the path Gollum showed them. There were no more words exchanged for they hardly dared to breath. Their minds were constantly playing tricks on them as they began to hear things. Shadows lengthened and created frightening images in the dim, wavering light they carried.

Frodo fingered the vial nervously as they walked along. Occasionally, his hand slipped towards his pocket but he stopped, catching himself doing so. He shivered, wanting nothing more than to be free of the Ring.

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Faith followed Angel into the cave, Spike bringing up the rear. "You know, if someone had told me I'd be spending this much time in the dark and not in a cemetery, I would've thought they were nuts," she griped.

"Better this than those stairs, pet. You nearly slipped a few times."

"Nearly is not falling-like you did," she shot back, reminding him of his fall. "That thing back there was wrong, just plain wrong."

"It is the Watcher," Angel quietly informed them. "It's not supposed to be right. It is a kind of guardian for this land. But Gandalf had been right, we do blend in well. I have never felt so overlooked in my entire life."

Suddenly stopping, he held up a hand and they stopped, leaning over his shoulder to peer into the ever-darkening gloomy interior. "What is it?" Faith finally asked, voice breeze soft.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I thought I heard something down that tunnel. But I can't tell if it's good or bad."

Spike shifted impatiently, stilling himself immediately. He knew it would do him no good to act out. But perhaps he could do something to help this situation get going. Moving forward slightly, he turned in the indicated direction. Leaving his position, he slowly inched forward. Senses extended farther that Angel dared go, he listened intently. He stared into the blackness, seeing something at the farthest end of the cave. A whitish something that fluttered in a silent breeze, "Spider."

"What?" Faith asked, face twisted up in disgust.

"There are several spider webs in there. Some larger than others," he moved back. "Hard to tell if there's several spiders or if its just one. Whichever it is, the webs indicate a spider of unusual size."

"On top of armies of orcs and unnatural creatures, we've got to deal with large spiders," she said with a groan. "Great. Could this trip get any better?"

"Don't tell me the Slayers afraid of a little spider."

She glared at him, bristling. It wasn't spiders that bothered her, it was their omnipresent, nearly invisible webs that could capture and hold a victim easily, with little chance of escape. It was too much like her experience with Kakistos. The oldest vampire had held her captive easily, had beguiled her with his trickery. "Spike, don't make me want to stake you more than I already do."

"I'd like to see you try," he softly challenged, getting into her face.

"And you," she poked him in the chest, "said it was a large spider. Getting forgetful in your old age, are you?"

"Old age?" he softly repeated, fangs slightly bared. "At least I had a life, which is more than I can say for you."

"Just what's that supposed to mean?"

Angel intervened quickly, not wanting this little tiff to escalate. "This isn't helping Dawn," he sternly said. "Spike, back off. Faith, put the stake away. We need him."

"I'm touched," he sarcastically said.

"Admitting that you've got a problem is the first step on the road towards recovery," she shot back, though she reigned herself in with effort.

"Cut it out." The words were calmly spoken but there was a rumble of warning that had them looking at him, suspicion coloring their eyes.

"Angel?" Faith asked, hand automatically going for the stake she hadn't released. "Are you okay?"

"We need to hurry. Something's wrong." He didn't answer her question, bolting down the cobwebbed tunnel.

"I hate it when he does that," Faith complained to Spike. Shrugging off her doubts as to the wisdom of this plan, she darted off after him. The webs brushed against her and she shivered in reaction, hating the feel of the sticky, ephemeral webs she felt. Pressing on, she focused her hearing on him, rather than on what was going on behind her, knowing that Spike's steps would only confuse her in the darkness.

Sometimes she wished that being a Slayer guaranteed superior night sight.

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Merry and Pippin sat, waiting for Treebeard to come for them. He had left earlier that day to talk to his mates about their plans for the siege on Isengard. Strangely, for all the noise the Ents were capable of making, the forest was silent.

"Pip, what do you think is going on?" Merry asked the question both had been thinking, tilting his head towards his friend.

"I do not know. How is your head? You took quite a blow," he pointed out, worried. "For all you acted as though it was nothing. That orc hit you pretty hard, Merry."

"Hard as a rock and better now that it has been cleaned. Are you all right?" He had not thought to do so earlier but as he recalled their hellish flight into the forest, he realized that he did not know how Pippin had fared.

Strong though he was, Pip was still younger than he was. Not by much, it was true, but the age difference was there in the experiences they both had. He, himself, was still new to this kind of exuberantly active lifestyle. Merry himself still felt weary but he was used to such strenuous exertions having traveled upon the river.

"Now that I am not frightened out of my wits, yes."

"That was a good idea you had, coming into Fangorn."

"May be but it was you who lead us through safely until we met Treebeard. I could not have done that," he shivered as he remembered their flight into the night, away from the fearsome orcs who pursued them. "What I want to know is, who was the gray cloaked man we saw earlier. Do you think it could be Saruman?"

They both shivered at his name. It was a name that spoke of fears unnamed and hidden in the dark recesses of the mind. For the first time, they understood the warnings they had been given in Rivendell and Lothlorian.

Merry finally revealed his own thoughts about it. "There is not much he seems to dare now-even with Sauron in the flesh. What I fear is that it might be Sauron, not Saruman. He knows a halfling carries his Ring. While we might be able to fool the orcs, I fear what might happen to us if we run into him."

Pippin shivered, "I had not thought about that."

Treebeard walked over to them then. His footsteps echoing in the forest with purpose and resolve and they turned to him, expectantly. "It is time for us to march on Isengard. Saruman must be stopped where he is for he has greatly wronged those he was sworn to protect and serve. You will come with us, though you will be kept out of the danger as we press our attack upon his evil tower."

Exchanging confused looks with Pippin, Merry said cautiously, "I thought we were to stay behind, where it was safe."

"You were. It would have been much better for you, little hobbits. As you are my friends, I do not wish to put you in danger. But a new power has come into our woods. A dangerous one. One that we do not recognize for all that it has an ancient feel to it. "

"That might be Willow," Pippin exclaimed happily. "She is on our side. Remember? We told you about her and her friends."

"This is not the girl of the Earth which you spoke of. This is one who smells of death. Of decay. Of dying things," he said, extending a hand.

Quickly, they went to him and settled down as they walked off. Treebeard spoke to them of the meeting as they walked, informing them of their plans. "It is our intent to stop the fires of Isengard first. Without his fires, Saruman will not be able to continue his evil work. You will need to stay out of the way once we begin to work."


	19. Things Are Picking Up Speed

_Author's Note: Sorry about the shortness of the chapters. And any spelling/grammar mistakes are my fault. I have totally lost my msword and am typing this up on wordpad. Which, as you know, has no spell checker or a way-that I have been able to find-to count the pages I've typed up. I will write to all the people I need to write to later, I promise_.

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Two figures stood in the shadows, watching the trio leave. Glory was disturbed by what she heard-especially the references to how her power felt. She was no fool. She knew that it was she this being felt. She only hoped that Tara would not figure it out before she got what she wanted from her. "Remember the plan. We need to get close to them. And only you have that ability."

"I will not fail you, my lady," she vowed, looking over at her in concern. "But what are you going to do?"

"Research," Glory said calmly, though she could feel the tremors that signaled Ben's imminent return. "I don't know much about Middle-Earth. The sources I consulted, while informative, were sadly lacking on any up to date information. I should've thought about that before we left. Tara, dear, go after the hobbits and I will send you the information I find. Hurry and remember…"

"Don't let them feel you on me," she finished with a small smile. "I shall make sure that I bathe before they see me. Are you going to be all right? You don't look so good."

"I will be fine," she kept her voice steady with effort, wanting her to be gone. "Run along before this battle comes. I am sorry to be harsh but you'll be no good to me if you are dead, my dear."

With a nod, Tara took off, looking back only once with regret. As she walked along, she felt the power flow in the land and reflected with gratitude that Glory had recommended that they enter and let their bodies adapt before they tried anything. TH e strength would've crushed them otherwise.

Also, the talisman that pulled most of the magic from around her and into it helped. With it to protect her, she didn't have to worry about overwhelming her system. She fingered the triskele thoughtfully.

It already glowed with excessive power. Stopping, she did a quick spell and released it back into the land. Hopefully, doing this spell constantly that would become a necessity or she'd never get away with this plan.

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Ben blinked, looking about him. _Oh, Glory, what have you gone and done to us now_? He thought, taking in the trees and the gloomy interior of the woods. It was full of an older, more ancient magic that he could not find comfort in. Pushing off the tree he'd been leaning against, he started off, intent on finding Tara.

For all her blind devotion to Glory, she was the only one who could tell him what was going on. He had a faint idea but was not more than that. And he needed more to go on before drawing any conclusions.

The steps he took were halted by what felt like a wall. Changing direction, he ran into another wall. Shaking his head, he went back to his earlier position and sat down, thinking.

Obviously, his 'partner' had done something to prevent him from going anywhere. He was stuck. Unless…glancing up, he wondered if she had covered all the escape options. Neither of them was very good when it came to what he was contemplating.

Still, it was worth a shot.

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"_**HELP**_!" The cry pierced the air. Merry and Pippin looked at each other before turning in the direction it came from, unable to ignore it even though they were worried about who it might be. If it might be a trick intended to trap them again. "**_HELP ME! PLEASE_**!"

A blond head bobbed along, being dragged under the water's currents. It was obvious from the way the body jerked, that the person was bound in some fashion. Quickly deciding, the two hobbits went to aid her, realizing that there was nothing they could do.

Changing direction silently, they went to Bregalad. The young Ent stood, watching over a few of the other Ents as they did some more work. "There is someone in need," Merry quickly said before he could ask them what was wrong. Pointing to the person, the trio walked over. Bregalad reached in and pulled the body out, snapping the chains easily.

"This poor soul is in need of rest and dry land," he observed, moving back a pace to place the sodden wretch down. Turning to the hobbits, he said. "I will leave her to your able care. She needs rest and I believe that seeing me would do more harm than good considering how she came to be in this condition. I am something of a puzzle to the race of man."

"Thank you, Bregalad," Merry said. Cautiously moving closer to the shivering bundle, they took a look and shook their heads, unsure of what their next move should be. "What do you think we should do now, Pip?" he asked, turning to his cousin.

"Getting the girl into warmer clothes might be an idea," a voice said from behind them. There was an amused lilt to it, as though remembering them fondly.

The familiar sounding voice that had both whirling about to stare, mouths opened in wonder. Their eyes stared at him, becoming even wider, seeming to drink in his appearance as he sat upon the white horse with happiness-and confusion. For his robes were white, not gray-and he did not seem wholly there.

"I seem to be the recipient of such looks so often in the past, I am beginning to wonder if I am capable of getting any other kind. I assure you that your eyes do not deceive you at all, my dear little hobbits," he said, intercepting the question that Pippin had been about to ask easily. "Your eyes do not decieve you, young Peregrin Took. It is I, Gandalf, risen from an early and most unwelcome death."

"But you are white!" Pippin could not hold back his exclamation of shock.

"So I am for that is what I am now. She may be dressed in this." HE tossed a bundle to them, "It is my old robe and cloak. Now, where is Treebeard?"

"Over there," Merry gestured towards the North and watched him ride off. "What do you suppose happened to him?"

"I do not know. But, Merry, must we change her? We do not even know her," Pippin asked, unrolling the bundle.

She moaned, opening her eyes. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you would be able to tell us," Merry said. "But first, would you like to change into something dry? These are not fine like some clothes but it is all we have that may be able to fit you."

"Anything is better than this," she said, shivering in the breeze. Accepting them from the hobbits with a hidden grimace, she walked off to a shady place. Once changed, she rejoined them around their small fire. "I'm Tara Maclay."

"Merry, my lady," he bowed and pointed towards his companion, "This is Pippin. Do you know Giles? Or his friends?"

"No, though I've heard of him," she admitted, keeping her voice soft and head bowed. This was a pivotal moment and Tara was well aware that she couldn't, by voice or face, reveal her motivations. She couldn't reveal what was really going on. "Why?"

"The clothes you have are similar to theirs. We wondered if you were part of that group," he explained, reluctant to say more. Something seemed off about this Tara, something that concerned him. He was not sure if it was because of their proximity to Saruman's domain or if it was something more than that. Glancing at Pip, he could see that the younger hobbit felt like he did. "Tell me, how did you come to be here?"

Tara shivered and drew nearer to the fire, closing her eyes as though to shield herself from the memories so recently made in her mind. "I don't know. That is something that I have yet to look upon. I cannot see anything past those horrid faces that surrounded me when I got here. They brought me here and I was imprisoned on top of the Tower."

Merry looked at her, doubt in his eyes. "How did you end up in the water?"

"I jumped," she answered simply, rubbing her shoulder. The suspicion they felt was apparent to her, yet she persevered. She reminded herself that they had no reason to trust her immediately.

Her story was a highly improbable one. If they knew anything of physics, they would have realized that a jump from that tower into the water should have killed her. If she acted as though it was true, they would have no reason to challenge her story. "After being up there, I decided that being dead was better than imprisonment with him."

"Saruman?" Pippin asked. "Did you meet him?"

"Not after he first talked to me and I refused to answer his questions for I did not know the answers. I met the other one. He had such beauty," she sighed. "But I don't remember much of our meeting. He was very powerful and kept much of my mind in confusion."

Merry decided that they should probably let one of the Ents know what was going on. If this girl had actually met Sauron, someone here should be told that he still had a body of flesh and blood. That he was still walking about, even though Willow had cut him off from her power. "Hey, Pip? I think we should go get some food for Tara. We should probably tell Treebeard and Gandalf what has been going on."

"You will not mind, will you?"

Tara shook her head, moving even closer to the flames. A picture of abject misery, she pulled the gray cloak about her.

"We will be back soon then," Merry said.

Nodding that she understood, she watched them go, drawing into herself. There was something watching her. Something unnatural. And it wasn't the Ents she was feeling or her own imagination.

There was an evil watching her. An evil she did not recognize.

Pulling the robe tighter about her, she shivered. When she agreed to do this, she wished she'd thought to do some research about this place. There was life and there was evil whose feel she did not understand-or like. Did not know how to handle it for all of her experience with the arcane.

Sauron withdrew from the mind of Tara, puzzled by this new woman. Though she wore the robe of an Istari, she was not one of them. Nor was she anything like Willow. What she was, he did not know.

He did know this. She was up to no good. She had lied to the hobbits about meeting him, about being imprisoned in the tower. Yet the words had flowed like silken honey, seeming to be truth. He did not like this not knowing.

Entering the mind of Willow, he implanted a warning about this Tara there. Trapped when she twitched away from the thought, holding him there. Softening his touch, he called to her, bending some of her magic to do his will.

Blinking her eyes, she focused on him. "Who…who are you?" she asked, voice hesitant in the stillness. Voice a whisper of sound as though afraid to speak any louder would break into the strange peace within. "And why can I see you when I normally can see nothing?"

Her head tilted as she sat down, cross-legged on the ground, trying to place his look. It was almost what she'd heard the elves described as, with a beauty she had never seen before. There was an aura of power about him she recognized from the elves. Almost she could believe that he was an elf, except that he seemed to be missing the pointed ears.

But he _was_ the most stunning creature she had ever seen.

"This is your mind," he pointed out, trying to be kind. It was slightly difficult for he hadn't had to try this in years. But he managed it. "In here, you have the power to do whatever you want. Soon your range will extend beyond the limits of your own slumbering mind and out into the world you walk."

"Whatever I want?" she repeated softly, testing the words. Shaking her head, she denied him. "That does not sound quite right to me. To do whatever one wants denotes power far greater than one could possibly possess at any one time."

Smiling charmingly, he sat down by her, slightly manipulating the whitish gray room. A blue sky appeared and became evening, filled with stars from both worlds. Before them, a pool of water slowly filled up until it was lapping gently at their toes.

Willow laughed, delighted. "How did you do that?"

"I did not," he denied, tapping her nose. "You did."

"I did? Are you sure?"

"Well," he slyly said, "I might have guided you a bit in how to do this. Other than that, I had very little to do with it. The potential is there, just untapped, latent within you. You already know that which you need, you are merely untutored in magics ways. Why do you not use it more freely?"

Playing idly with her hair, she studied him. Thinking over his words, she couldn't help but see the logic in them. She couldn't refute the sense in his words. Still…"I already told you, it doesn't seem quite right, like I have an unfair advantage."

"You do not have an unfair advantage, my very innocent minded young one. You have a gift, much the same as others do. There is no shame in using it. No risk in doing what comes naturally to you. That is why you have it. A gift given that is not used will only grow dull and ill if it is not used. Is it not better to use it, to exercise it than to lose it?"

Nibbling her lips, she shook her head. "I don't know."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, it is something to think about, young one."

"Willow," she said with an impishsmile. "My name is Willow. It seems rather strange to not hear it, even in my own mind."

"And I am Annatar, sometimes called the Lord of Gifts," he smiled at her, accepting her hand willingly.

"So, you are an elf," she said in satisfaction, happy that she could place him.

"I am whatever you see me as," he replied evenly, "Though I have been known to take the form of an elf occasionally. I have not done so in years. Tell me something of yourself," he invited.

Brushing a hand through the grass on the ground, she ducked her head and watched as it flattened before springing back up. "There isn't that much to tell," she murmured, blushing under his continued scrutiny.

"How can you say that?" he asked. "I see a lot of what you have done. You and your friends are involved in quite a work. You, yourself, have suffered greatly because of it and all with no reward. Why do you do it? Have you not done enough? Given enough?"

Looking back up at him, arrested by the odd tone of near vehemence in his voice, she thoughtfully gazed at him. She had never heard of an elf that would have such a passionate response to something. It could be possible that he was an Istari, even though he did not look like one. "No," she said, watching intently to see his reaction. "I don't think a time will ever come when I say that I've done enough."

"Why do you say that?" he pressed her. "Do the people you serve ever thank you? Do your friends?"

"I don't do it for the thanks," she stiffly informed him. Turning away, she looked out at the sea, not liking the way he looked at her. It was like he could see right through her, into her innermost thoughts-the ones she hid from. The ones she despised herself for thinking at all for they were not kind. They were selfish and self-serving, something that didn't belong in the fight they were engaged in. "Don't look at me like that."

"Why?"

"It makes me very uncomfortable-and I don't like being uncomfortable, especially in my own mind." She stood up and started to pace, restless energy begging for release. The sea surged with her discontent, frothing in the center and sending powerful waves crashing near them.

Watching her, he asked, even as he kept an eye on the sea. As pleased as he was by the sight of her unconscious display of power, he did not want to be lost as a result. "Are you sure that it is my look that does that to you? Is it not the truth in my words that causes you discomfort?"

"I don't like this conversation," she stated, turning away from him. "I bid you farewell."

"Wait," he rose and grabbed her arm, a pleading look on his face. "I offer you my regret for hurting you. It was not my intent. Please, you are the first person I have talked to in thousands of years for I have been quite forgotten over time."

Willow gasped, instantly compassionate for his sad plight, and moved towards him as if to hug him. All those years, spent all alone, it was a wonder he was so sane. Stopping, she remembered something. Elves did not appreciate random acts of touching. And they certainly did not appreciate them from mankind. "I'm sorry. No wonder your manner is blunt. Well, blunt for an elf," she backtracked her words, flushing.

Sauron watched her as she tried to explain what she meant, amused. He tuned out much of her words as he contemplated her as she was for the first time. _Such a simple-minded creature_, he thought, _much like others of the race of man_. _Yet very strong willed. She will not be so easy to bend or break_.

"Are you all right?" she broke in hesitantly, becoming aware that he was not listening to her. She was well aware of her ability to overwhelm people. "Is it me?"

"I am fine," he interrupted, smiling to ease her worries. He also did not think he wanted to hear her babble on, insightful though it could be. "It is nothing you have done. I was just thinking that I have never met anyone quite like you."

Her lips quirked, "Yeah, I get that. Everyone here seems to think I'm remarkable. And I'm not. I'm just me."

"But you are to a world full of similarities. The people who dwell in Middle-Earth are not very boisterous among other races. Even the dwarves for all their jocularity hide their true selves from others," he commented softly. "Dawn approaches, so I shall allow you to awaken."

"I won't be gone for long," she sighed. "There is still a lot of weariness hanging on due to my illness."

"A word of warning, if I may be so bold as to do so," he said.

"Please, any warnings you have to offer would be appreciated. These are dark times we find ourselves in, embroiled in a war we really have no place in. It is most tiring trying to find out who to trust. Who to believe in," she sighed again.

"There is a strange girl in our midst. At the moment, she is at Isengard. Be wary of her for she hides deception within. I sense a strange power within her," he cautioned.

"Like mine?" she questioned, apprehensive.Annatar words spoken earlier came back to her. Of her power and its powerful potential to do whatever she wished. Giles would not like this, not at all.

"No," he shook his head. "Hers comes from a different source. She is not as powerful as you are. Do not underestimate her for this apparent lack. For power alone does not preclude ability."

"Believe me," she spoke viciously, "I will not. I will not take anything in this world at face value again. I will not judge anything based on appearance. Having done that once, I am still living with the consequences of my arrogance."

"What of me? You seem to be trusting me easily enough," he pointed out.

"You're in my head. If you meant me any harm, you would've done it already. I mean, you can't hurt me any worse than by raping my memories. And even that's been done before."

"If you say it than I must accept it," he shrugged. "I will see you soon." His voice followed her as she fell into the gathering mist and disappeared.

Willow woke up, blinking reflexively. Giving herself a little shake, she resolved to tell Giles what had just happened for it was new-and slightly disturbing. The sun warmed her skin even as she shivered and she pushed the covers aside, suddenly very warm under them.

Well, she tried but something-or someone, she amended, hearing a little giggle-held the covers down.

She grinned.

"Well, well, and what is this that's sleeping in my bed?" she growled. "I believe that it must be Goldilocks who has stumbled in here and you know what? I'm hungry cause someone stole my porridge. And that someone ate it all up!" Pouncing on the boy, she pretended to eat him, hands tickling him mercilessly.

"Llow! Not Locks!" he squealed. "Nor! Nor!"

"Nor, is it?" she laughed, picking him up and twirling about a little. "Nor what?"

"Nor me!" he laughed, clapping his hands delightedly.

Bringing them to a stop, she kissed his cheek. "Hello, my little baby bear."

"Not bear," he pouted.

"No?" she asked, hugging him. "Then you must be our Connor. And what are you doing up here, little man? Did I oversleep?"

"Bye," he said, his pout becoming an even sadder face. "Uffy."

"Buffy's leaving?" she asked. "Well, she wants to be of some help. I just hope there's enough orcs left for the Rohirrim to handle." She grinned, knowing what both Slayers were like in battle. "Those poor guys are not going to know what to make of her."

"On!" he demanded, sadness departing as quickly as it had come.

"All right, Connor. Just let me get a robe on," she sighed, tired again. The closest thing she had to a robe was the coat Faith had taken from Aragorn. The one she had meant to return to him but never got around to it. Once sufficiently covered, she made her way down to where all the noise was.

After she had filtered out the excess noise, she focused on her friend's familiar essence and made her way over to her. It was not as easy as it should've been but she knewit was a combination of Connor's weight and thefull room."Subtle, Buffy. Real subtle," she commented, standing behind her. "Send Connor in to wake me knowing I'd smack anyone else."

"Didn't think you wanted to miss this," Buffy said, turning around and taking a look at her, whistling as she did so. "A little underdressed, aren't you? Or are you giving the men a visual of something to come back for?"

Flushing all the way to her toes, she shuffled her feet and looked down. Connor chattered on, excited by all that was going on. "I would've dressed but someone was in a hurry," she poked the boy lightly. He giggled at her, unconcernedly, then went back to his babbling. "How much am I showing? Everything?"

"Calm down, Willow," she soothed. "I was teasing you, that jacket's more than enough to cover you. Where did you get it?"

"Faith stole it for me," she shrugged.

"What?" Buffy gasped, shocked by the blasé answer. Although, she was not shocked to hear what Faith had done as she probably should have been. "And you haven't returned it yet? Willow, how could you."

"I do not need it back," Aragorn said, startling them both. "I do not think I ever wore it so well. May I borrow Willow for a moment?"

"Do you intend to bring her back?" Buffy asked, still not sure how to feel about him. It was apparent that he was trustworthy, that Willow and Xander were fond of him. Giles wouldn't reveal what he thought. And she knew he knew more than he was telling her, she could always tell when he was keeping secrets from her.

So, she didn't drop her guard. She would not let herself rest easy about him, no matter how honorable he appeared.

His mouth worked for a moment before he could find an answer. "I had no intention of keeping her."

"Very well. You may borrow her-for a few moments only," she said and took Connor from Willow, watching with narrowed eyes as he escorted Willow away. She turned away, seeing Lindsey in the corner. "I thought you weren't going to come down, seeing all of this as pointless."

"I do. But no one could sleep through this racket," he muttered, yawning.

"No one with a conscience, that is."


	20. Memories, Just Don't Sing That Song

_Author's Note: This is mostly Boromir. And the days on Earth, for the most part. The memories are all scrambled about. I kinda wanted it to show what was going on in his sick mind, which things took up precidence. Or which ones just happened to shove themselves forward. If the continuous itlalizations are annoying, let me know. But I wanted the sections in his mind to be different than the rest of the story_.

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Halissa watched Boromir, taking careful note of his color and sleep patterns as she had been instructed to. They had not changed in all the time he had been here. Recalling Gandalf's words, she had said nothing to the Lord and Lady of Lothlorian about what was really wrong with him, though she had a feeling that her Lady already knew.

Not much escaped her notice.

Either way, it felt wrong, keeping secrets from them. Still, she knew Gandalf would not have asked it of her if he did not have a reason. It was not his way to ask that they do something without a reason. It was not her place to question the Istari, though she wondered if he knew what he was doing. She may not have been around when these kinds of dark creatures roamed the world but she had heard enough of them to know that it was not wise to keep one about.

Not wise at all. Wiping his sweaty brow, she sighed and waited.

Boromir twitched, turning slightly away from the light that shone through the canopy. It was almost as if the light pained him. She watched, worried about this new photosensitivity he was showing and resolved to write to Giles about it. If she coudl get someone to watch him for a while, that was. Many elves seemed to be wary of this man and, while she did not blame them, it made keeping Giles updated on his progress most difficult.

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"_Hello, Angel. Cordelia. Thank you for coming so quickly. Though I did not expect you to cut your trip short." Giles ushered them into the room. "This is Lord Boromir, of Gondor, the man Amy told us would arrive. Boromir, I want you to meet Angel and Cordelia Chase."_

"_This seemed to be a bit more urgent than what we were doing," Angel explained. "Hello," he greeted him, studying him curiously. He was exactly as Faith and Buffy had described him. A warrior and a gentleman, he looked forward to getting to know him better._

_Rising, Boromir bowed to Angel before shaking the offered hand. Turning to Cordelia, he accepted her hand first and bowed over it. "It is a pleasure to meet the both of you."_

_Cordelia's eyes ran appreciatively over him, a pleased smile crossing her face. She definitely liked what she was seeing-and hearing. "I'm sure it's a pleasure to meet me. But I wouldn't be so quick to grant Angel that privilege. For all his age, this vamp has very little social skills-and little desire to learn them, thinking they have very little importance to his brooding worldview."_

_Boromir's startled gaze met hers, charmed and confused by the directness in them. She was not like the other women he had met in Sunnydale and he was not sure how to handle her. Glancing at Giles, he could only stammer for a bit._

_Taking pity on him-and not sure she cared about Cordelia's suddenly proprietary attitude over him, Dawn walked over and quickly intervened. Because, after all, Boromir was their friend-and sometime pesky older brother. "So, have you guys found anything? The Watcher's Council's got nothing, though they've sure put Buffy through the wringer."_

"_I'm not even convinced the Watchers really know anything. I think its just revenge," Spike said, glaring at Angel._

"_Does he have to be here?" Angel asked, scowling back at him._

"_I've more right than you," he shot back._

"_True. A neutered pup like you would need protection," he sneered._

"_So, Boromir, how long have you been here?" Cordy asked, ignoring the bickering vampires. She, like everyone else, was inured to their constant squabbling to be bothered by it._

"_I have been here for two or three weeks," he answered, glancing over at them. "Should we not stop them?"_

"_Nah," she waved it off. "They're always like that, you'll get used to it."_

"_But are they not allies? Does not this weaken the unity of your alliances?"_

"_They're family," she said, as if that explained it all. "Hey!" she yelled. "Knock it off or I'll knock you off."_

"_Good one, Cordy," Faith said, looking up from the knife she was paring her nails with._

"_Thanks," she nodded._

"_Thank you," Giles said. "We have to find out who Glory is and how to defeat her before she arrives. So there is little time to waste in this pointless arguing about who has more right to be where. And, as much as it pains me to admit it, Spike appears to be right regarding the Watcher's Council's motives towards Buffy. Their behavior is only bent upon a course of malicious revenge. Do you have any information regarding Glory, seeing as how she first came to Los Angeles?"_

"_She has formed an alliance with Wolfram and Hart," Cordy said. "Other than that, there's been little we could find out about her."_

"_The trouble seems to be that Glory isn't her name," Fred said as she and Gunn walked into the room. "Sorry that we're late. I had to double-check my sources because I couldn't believe that it would be that simple to hide her. I feel like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner but really, who could blame me? We've had no precedence for this."_

"_Honey, the point," Gunn reminded her._

"_Oh, sorry," she flushed. "All the sources we have looked up have suggested that her name is really Glorificus."_

_Giles' eyes widened. 'Glorificus? Are you absolutely sure of this?"_

"_Well, I'm ninety-nine percent sure, Greek not being one of the languages I'm comfortable with." Her voice trailed off as she watched him rush past her and into the library. They looked at each other before following him, watching as he tore through books, muttering to himself. Flipping rapidly through them, an exuberant smile crossed his face as he held one up triumphantly._

"_What is it?" Gunn asked._

"_Glorificus, a minor Hell Goddess. Through some trick of fate in a battle, she found her way here. Once here, she began to try to take control of this world. Failing that, she seeks the way back into her world, the Key. An Order was created to stop her and she was bound here through magic. If she were ever to get her Key back not only would she be able to get home-she would also regain her full strength," he summarized what he'd read for them before snapping the book closed._

_Silence descended as they all realized the significance of what he'd told them._

_Boromir spoke into the silence, "How does one kill a god?"_

_The door crashed open and Buffy entered, her face pale with anger and fright. "Giles!" she cried, practically throwing herself at him. "They've taken Xander and Willow!"_

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"_That's him," Amy confirmed, taking another look at him. "Well, he's one option. The other is similar, but he's not as warrior like."_

_"Is there another one I should've waited for?" she asked, worried._

_"No," Amy shook her head. "There were only two possibilites. This is the man I foresaw as the most likely. But, as with all things magical, one can never fully predict the outcome."_

_"Still don't know why he's supposed to be here, do you?"_

_Amy's head shook, understanding Buffy's irriation. She knew Giles felt it as well. Turning to the man, she offered him a warm smile. "Please, come inside." _

_Boromir followed after them, understanding what they wanted by the gestures and looks he was receiving. Though he was not at all sure that he wanted to enter the dark and forbidding house, he did so. After all, what choice had he really? This land was strange to him and he did not understand much of what he had seen._

_The two females had offered him no harm, they seemed to welcome him. In fact, if he was not mistaken, they seemed to be expecting him. He could sense no deception in them-and he did not doubt his senses. Over the years of patrolling the borders between Mordor and Gondor, he had become quite adept at picking up hidden intentions. Though he was not quite as good as Faramir, he did consider himself a fair judge of finding out the secret intents of the heart._

_Shrugging off his doubts, he took a deep breath and stepped in. A strange flow of power wrapped about him, passing through him as he passed through the doorway. He stopped, startled by the feel of it surrounding him. "What was that?" he demanded an answer reflexively, forgetting for a moment that they would not be able to answer him. _

"_Us giving you the ability to talk to us and vice versa because I'm sure the whole silence thing is starting to get on your nerves. And not being able to talk to you with more than gestures will bug some of us," a voice chirped happily from above him. Leaning over the banister, a redhead smiled down at him. Pushing away, she began to descend. "Quite honestly, I'm surprised it worked. We didn't really think it would cause we had to think it up on the spur of the moment, which is not something we are very adept at. I'm Willow, by the way. Those two beside you are Buffy-she's the one who brought you here-and Amy, who told her where to find you. In that door over there is Giles. And you are?" _

"_I am Boromir, the son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor," he introduced himself, bowing to each of them in turn. As he did so, he studied each of them, trying to memorize each face. The redhead-Willow-was an easy one, as was Buffy. The girl was a natural warrior and possed the confidence to carry out the threat her strength suggested. Amy and Giles seemed a little more shadowy, as though there was some kind of filmy covering over their true nature._

_Still, it would not be difficult to remember who they were._

"_Quite a mouthful," a man behind him said. Smiling to relieve the tension he saw in the man's face, he easily introduced himself and his companion. "Pleased to meet you, Boromir. Is it all right if I just call you Boromir? I'm Xander and this is Oz."_

"_Hey," the other man nodded, passing him to disappear down the hall. There was a decided shake to the way he was walking and Buffy raised an eyebrow before turning towards the desk beside a coat rack._

_Boromir frowned after the smaller, dark haired man. Surely he could not have done something to offend him so quickly after meeting him. He had not even had a chance to greet him_

"_Don't mind him. He's usually like that before a wolfy night," Willow explained with another smile as he looked a her skeptically before going after him. "You'll get used to it," her voice echoed down the hall._

"_Wolfy night?" he repeated blankly. Looking around, he focused on the one called Giles for he was the only one who looked as if he would be able to explain things, he asked. "What is a wolfy night? What is happening here for none of you seem surprised to see me? Is what Willow said truth, that you have a seer in your midst? Bu what power has my speech become clear to you? Why was this woman outside at night, alone, fighting such evil creatures? What were they?" _

"_Lord Boromir, you ask some very good questions. Unfortunately, the answers are much more difficult to answer," he sighed., rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was as he had feared when Amy told him of her vision. A man from Middle-Earth, here in the midst of Earth-and standing in his presence. Not only that, but he was a man Giles had met briefly while in staying in Gondor, doing a bit of research for Gandalf on something esoteric. He could only hope that he would not recognize his face. "Please, join me in the study. I will attempt to give you the answers you seek." _

_Seeing nothing unreasonable in the request, he followed the quartet into the bright room and sat near the fire, waiting. Of course, even if he had, his desire for answers would have caused him to follow them anywhere._

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"_Excellent, Buffy, but you keep dropping your guard. Doing so leaves you open for an attack. You never want to give over the advantage when fighting with a sword like this for your fists will not always save you from an attack. Please, try to remember that this sword is not like the lighter fencing style of weapon you are used to. It is mostly used in a two handed grip, giving you much more leverage and power behind your thrusts," he scolded, demonstrating what he meant._

_"Owe," she said, her shoulder popping in the silence as he knocked her sword away. Using his sword and body, he pinned her tightly against the cushioned wall. "I got it."_

"_Good," he stepped back. "Then try it again." _

_Turning away from her after watching her movements for a moment, he went over to the other Slayer in the room. "Do not clutch the sword hilt so tightly, Faith," he counseled her, lunging at her. When her wrist bent in a way that would have broken it had she not been the Slayer, he pulled back. "When you hold it like that, you put yourself at a disadvantage, as you have just felt. A sword is not like your stake. It needs to breath in your hand. Be firm but allow it freedom. It is not a club. One does not hack with a sword." _

"_Hate to break this up but Amy's got to go home. Her father called," Xander said. Behind him, they could see Amy putting on her coat. _

"_I've got patrol duty," Buffy said, parrying Boromir's sudden stroke successfully. Sidestepping him, she turned him about so that he was forced to backtrack or get hit, she dropped into a roll._

_Faith stepped into the opening and jabbed him. Blocking his retaliating stroke, she stepped bakc and bowed, signalling the end of the duel. "I'll take her. There's something I have to pick up over there anyway." _

"_Take care of your sword first," Boromir reminded her sternly. "It will be much worse for you if you do not. There is much more work to be done if you must repair a rusty sword. Not only must you clean it, you will also be responsible for sharpening it again. Even then, the blade will not be as strong as it was before." _

_Waving off his words, Faith nevertheless followed his order. Once that was done, she waved at them and left. _

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_A feeling twitched the back of his neck, it was the same feeling he got whenever he sensed someone watching him. Lowering his book, he glanced up to see Willow standing in the doorway, a lost look on her face. The by now familiar dead look in her green eyes was tinted with a fear of rejection. _

_Rising, he walked over to her and gently led her to sit by the fire. Sitting back down in the chair, he waited for the inevitable. She knelt down and rested her head against his knee. His hand rested in her hair, stroking softly. In all the time she came to him for this silent comfort that the others could not give her, she never said a word. _

_It pained him to see her so submissive, so still. The greatest pain came because he knew she saw in him the same kind of strength of her capors, those who had done this to her. It was a part of him, that darkness for it had touched his country for so long, it had begun to seep into his pours. Into his body and had begun to change him_

_Yet, she was more trusting of him than he had been when he realized it. When he had seen what darkness lay within him She knew-she believed with every breath she took-that he would never hurt her. For all that belief, she needed that dark in him for a part of her was still trapped in that hellhole. Trapped behind the haunting image of being nothing more than a pet to those who had captured her. Had tormented her._

_She was still locked away in the darkness of a basement that had kept her out of the light for two long and brutal months._

_With all his heart, he wished that her effervescence would return-and not just as a show to her friends. The rescue of them both had been successful-except that a part of Willow and Xander had been sacrificed. Both had lost much of their their innocence, a terribly high cost to pay for them all._

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_With Cordelia sitting by his side, they watched the stars light up the night sky. The show was impressive, he idly thought as their fingers curled about each other. It was a rare moment of peace and he merely relaxed into it, enjoying it as he would never allow himself to do at home._

_A twinge hit him as he thought about that-especially in light of his feelings now. _

_Though his missed his home and that he knew, Boromir felt that he could live in this moment forever. The woman beside him was unlike any other. Quietly, he leaned forward until he could see her. Not being a man of many words-and relatively new to this strange thing called dating-he simply said, "You are beautiful, Cordelia. I hope you will not think me terribly bold for saying so but I love you." _

_Taking his face in her hands, she smiled at him. "Not only do I think you bold but you are courageous as well. I love you too, you big dolt." She waited and sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes, "You can kiss me anytime here." _

"_I do not wish to be so forward," he said, slightly shocked. Though he understood that there was a freedom about the women of this world, the openness of the sexual side of relationships between men and women still shocked him. _

"_Oh, for…" she kissed him. "There is such a thing as being to much of a gentleman, Boromir," she scolded him, resting her head on his shoulder after a moment. _

_"I shall try to keep that in mind," he slowly drawled._

_"Only with me, big guy. Unless you no longer wish to live," she warned., glancing up Though there was laughter there, Boromir could not mistake the light in her eyes. "I do not share. You may be their big brother but you are **my** man. Got it, Captain?"_

_"Never doubted it for a moment, my lady queen," he replied._

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"_Hi! I'm back…who are you?" a young woman asked, stopping in the doorway, shocked. _

"_Boromir," he simply introduced himself, remembering Xander's words. "And you would be?" _

"_Dawn, Buffy's sister," she said, walking towards him, studying him. "Where is everyone?" _

"_Willow and Xander have gone to class while Amy and oz are doing some research. Faith is exercising with Spike. I believe that Giles and Buffy have gone to, as your sister puts it, tell the Council off," he finished with a slight smile. _

"_I see," she slowly nodded. "So, what are you doing here?"_

"_There seems to be no answer to that seemingly simple question right now. But not for want of searching," he told her, shrugging. "Tell me, what are you doing here? I was led to believe that you were in school abroad as per your father's orders." _

_Flopping down on the couch and ignoring his scolding look, she folded her arms across her chest. "I was. But the school closed and we were sent home with no explanation. Not that it is any business of yours," she pointed out._

"_That is true, it is not. I thank you for satisfying my curiosity all the same." _

_Dawn blinked and stared at him, unsure of how to take him or his oddly formal sounding answer. In the end, she just shrugged. "Weird_."

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_"Lord Boromir! Are you all right?"_

_"What?" he asked, looking about him as he sat up. It was strange, the way the land looked to him know. His skin crawled as he felt a new tinge of evil in the air. Whatever he had done, wherever he had been, it had changed his perception. Looking at the man, he recognized him instantly and he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Beregone, I am fine. How long have I been gone?"_

_"Gone, sir?" he repeated, puzzled. "What do you mean?"_

_"I mean...it is unimportant. What I meant to ask was, how long was I unconscious for?"_

_"Not long at all," he replied. "I was sent to fetch you for your father and brother have arrived. Something has happened in Gondor and they wish to see you."_

_"I must finish my rounds unless it is an order from the Steward of Gondor that I come in."_

_Beregone looked at him. This was new for Boromir would have instantly gone, asking another to take his place until he returned. He would not have asked if it was an order for it was his father. "No, sir."_

_"Then tell my father that I shall come as soon as I have finished here."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"And Beregone?"_

_He turned and looked at him, a question on his face._

_"Thank you."_

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_Faramir stared at his brother, mouth slack with shock as he walked up to their father. "Lord Denethor, it is good to see you. I am sorry to have kept you waiting but I had to finish my patrol. Have you come to insepct the troops?"_

_"No, I have not. I have come to see you and I do not appreciate being kept waiting," he snapped, pulling his robe tighter about his shaking body as a rough and chill wind blew through the window._

_"I am sorry, father, but I have my duties. It was myturn to patrol the border, I would not wish to have something happen because I was remiss in my duty."_

_"That is what your men are for. They are supposed to take up these menial duties to free you to do other, more important tasks befitting the future Steward of Gondor."_

_"No, father. My men are here to help me. Steward or not, I should not ask them to do anything that I am not willing to do myself. It is not right of me."_

_"I will speak to you later, once you have come to your senses."_

_Boromir watched him go, a helpless look in his eyes. Turning to Faramir, he smiled. "Brother, it is good to see you."_

_"What happened to you, Boromir? You seem...different."_

_"Let me make my report and then you shall join me inmy chambers. There is much I have to tell you."_

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"Halissa? Is all well?"

"No, my Lady. I wish to write to Master Giles. But..." she trailed off, aware that she had come close to complaining.

"Yes, what with the preparations and other things, there have not been many who will take the time to care for Lord Boromir. Go and make your report, I shall attend to his needs."

"My Queen!" she protested.

"Go, Halissa. I shall take good care of him," a twinkle entered her eyes. "I have, after all, some eperience in healing matters. Not all the gifts of healing were granted to Lord Elrond after all."

"Yes, my queen," stunned, she walked out of the alcove and towards the library.

Galadriel watched her go, an amused smile crossing her face.

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Glory blinked into the sun and stood up, brushing off the leaves that clung to her after Ben's fall. Once clean, she broke the enchantment surrounding the enclosure and made her was steadily east. A few hours passed and she found herself fighting off exhaustion, fighting off the return of her warden.

There was no life near her for her to draw upon to reclaim her strength. This land was too clean, to pure for her to siphon strength from it. She could barely keep walking and stumbled, cursing the land that denied her the dark reality that she was.

Ben looked about, noting the dark night sky, startled to find himself in control again. He still didn't know where he was-and knew that he could not seek Tara out. Gathering himself together, he made his way steadily east, drawn by something he could not see.

Yet, something told him that east was where he needed to be.


	21. Beware For Betrayals Are All About Us

_Author's Note: Is here because the other 2 chapters had them and so, I added it here. lol_

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"You are a warrior of exceptional skill," Eomer complimented Buffy, joining her as they rode toward their camp. For all his doubt over this strange woman coming with them, he was most impressed by her skill in combat. By her confident, no nonsense, take no prisoners attitude and a willingness to take orders. "Other than the Shield Maidens, I have rarely seen another female with such abilities, though your riding could use some work."

In the distance, Helm's Deep stood, mostly empty of life. There was a minimal guard but nothing that would cripple their army.Around it, the ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen enemies for they had taken care of their own.

Her head slowly turned to look at him, a miffed expression on her face as he interrupted her rather gloomythoughts. It had been her intent to ride back to Medulsed, but Giles had advised against it. Though she didn't want to spend more time with these strangers-especially Gandalf-she yielded to his words.

Still, she wished that Idis had remained with them instead of going home.

But she was a defender and needed to ready her women for the battle she knew was coming. It was no rumor that the King and his men would leave for Gondor when the call came for them to go. It would be up to the Shield Maidens to protect the homeland until they returned from battle in glory.

"Thanks. Nice to see that you aren't arrogant enough to admit when you are wrong. Refreshing to hear it-from a guy," she offhandedly said, moving before he could do more than stare at her, mouth open in shock.

These Rohirrim could use a few lessons in equality. For all their forward thinking when it came to women warriors, they still had chauvinism about them. A sense of smug superiority that irked her.

Riding up beside him, she said, "Giles, I don't want to go to this Scaryman guy. I want to return to Medulsed. I have a bad feeling about leaving Will and Xander alone."

"Buffy, they are safe. And his name is Saruman," he said, slighlty annoyed by her flipancy.

"Whatever," she muttered.

"As for seeing Saruman, it is something we should do. There is someone there, a young woman named Tara. Gandalf has asked that we meet her for she is from our world. We must find out how she got here. If at all possible, we must prevent others from coming. This world is not safe."

"So I've noticed," she muttered. "I don't see why we have to listen to Gandalf. Its not like he listens to you."

"Gandalf is now the leader of the Istari. He knows this world. We do not."

"And we know demons and Glory, while he only gets that stuff from us. We should get our business out of the way and leave them to theirs."

"That isn't very kind."

"But it's the truth," she said.

"Only as you see it," he reminded her.

"This isn't our fight," she obstinately maintained.

"Consider this then. If the walls separating this world from ours is thinning, their problems could easily become our own. Ours could become theirs. By figuring out what is going on now, we can avert many deaths in our own world, as well as in this one. Demons do not belong here. This fight of theirs has become our own, Buffy. It is our fight because protecting the innocent is what we do. It is your birthright and calling."

"I hate it when you say stuff like that because I can't fight you." Giles nodded, "That is why I say things like that."

"I knew it," she sighed, resigned.

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They found Dawn, screaming at the end of the tunnel, trapped by a large spider's body. A hideously large and very dead-they hoped-spider's body.

"Now, that's just sick," Faith said, nose twitching. Any desire to pretend that spiders did not make her feel queasy fled at the sheer size of the beast before her.

"Get me out of here!" Dawn screamed, jumping back when one of the leg's twitched.

"Hang on, niblet," Spike soothed her, frowning. "Any ideas?"

Angel walked from one end to the other, mindful of keeping his voice lowered as he answered, "I can't see a way around it. And I don't see how we can move it, there's no way to get any leverage."

Try as he did to keep quiet, Dawn heard him. "You guys can't help? Didn't you bring Giles or Willow? What kind of messed up, crack-headed rescue is this? I want to go home."

"Niblet, you will calm down. We can't help you if you don't help yourself," Spike sternly said. Though her lower lip trembled, she visibly calmed down. "That's better. Now, I want you to look around. Is there another way to where you are that you can see?"

Sniffing back frightened tears, she looked about. "No. There's only more web and…stuff." Her voice squeaked a bit on the words, but she stayed still. "Spike, I want Buffy."

"You aren't helping, Dawn."

"Why don't we just leave the kid here? She's safe enough."

"Faith."

"What, Angel? She won't help-and I am not climbing over that dead thing to get her."

"Buffy would kick you butt if you did that."

Faith scoffed, "If Buffy heard you, she'd leave you here-and you know it, little Miss Whiney."

Dawn glared at her, fierce resentment in her eyes. It was truth. She was acting like a spineless booby-she just didn't want to hear it. Not from Faith, not from anyone. And really, who could blame her for her behavoir? She was trapped behind a large, frickin', dead spider for heaven's sake in a place that was _not_ her home.

"This is not helping," Angel said.

Spike grabbed the rope and one of Faith's arrows. Tying the rope around it, he shot it into the wall. Taking another arrow, he did the same and shot it over Dawn's head. Ignoring her shriek of outraged suprise, he spoke, "Think of this as gym class, niblet. Hand over hand, legs wrapped around the rope, come towards us. I'll meet you half-way."

As he came towards he, he calmly instructed her, "Keep your attention on me." Together, they crossed the spider and joined the others. Angel pulled and retrieved the arrows and the rope.

"Shouldn't we take her to Lothlorien?" Faith asked as they continued to move towards Mordor. "Wouldn't she be safe there?"

"Safer, may be, but can you find your way back? We barely made it this far without interruption. It might be safer for her to stay with us. I doubt Sauron will look for us there."

"Nice idea, Angel. But why don't we just go to Gondor. I'm sure we can find our way there."

"We promised to keep an eye on Frodo and Sam, remember?"

"Frodo and Sam?" Dawn asked, startled. Now that she was with them, she regained control of herself. "I saw them. Little guys, one of them was poisoned and taken away by evil creatures. The other killed the spider with the help of some small, pale creature. This guy seemed all upset about losing his 'precious', whatever that is."

"Gollum."

"The Ring."

"Orcs," Faith rubbed her hands together. "What are we waiting for? Let's go."

"Now, hold on for just a moment. We can't just march in and take over this mission. It's Frodo's appointed task."

"Who said anything about taking over?" Faith asked, giving him a look. The one he could clearly translate as '_you are utterly daft_.' "I just want to kill some orcs, make their path a bit smoother. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"We're more than halfway through, Angel. Might as well take a look. Probably going to end up here anyway."

Angel sighed, conceding to the points they made. "All right. But if it gets bad, we go back through the cave to Gondor. No ifs ands or buts about it. Got it?"

"You're the boss."

"As if anyone believes that."

"Pay me and I'll listen more."

"Might I point out that this is your sacred duty?"

"May I point out that I don't care?"

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Eowyn watched as Xander and Willow walked, swinging Connor between them. Her staff was left, resting against a wall and the sight of it struck her as odd. Did she not need it to perform magic as Gandalf did? If she did not, then why have a staff at all?

Oh, she realized that Willow was blinded but had watched her move. Through this observation, she knew that the girl was guided by something only she was aware of. That she had a staff-and did not use it-was intriguing. It was such a strange puzzle that it refused to leave her. She knew that they all had abilities outside of the normal, human ones-her aunt had told her that.

There was no doubt about it, they were…a voice called out, breaking into her thoughts. "Hey, Lady Eowyn!" Xander yelled, not noticing the nasty look he received for his casual greeting. "Why don't you take a break and join us? We could use more people for our game of 'Hide and Seek'. Willow here cheats."

"I do not," she hotly protested, her hands coming to rest upon her hips.

"Do!" Connor chimed in.

"Yeah, you use that inner sight of yours to find us," Xander agreed. "It's no fair playing with you."

"Well, you look to see where we go!"

"I need some advantage against you."

"What is this 'Hide and Seek' you speak of? I have never heard of it." Joining them, she intervened in the argument, for all that she could see that it was in jest. That no real harm was meant by their words to each other. Seeing her guard, she waved them off. At the moment, there was no need for them.

"Me tell! Me tell!" Connor cried, mumping up and down, excited. "We hide. You find us."

Smiling, she rested her hand on his shoulder, stilling his restless movements. "Thank you, Master Connor. But how do I know when to find you."

"Count and ask!"

"Ask?"

"Ready, not, here come," he said, as though it should be obvious to her what she was supposed to say.

"Right," she slowly replied. "Play now, Play now! Not it!"

"Not it?" Eowyn repeated, puzzled.

"Not it," Xander said. "Hah! You're it, Will."

"Okay," she mock sighed. "You go hide while I count to twenty. Then, I'll come find you. Right?"

"Right," Connor giggled at them and ran off before she actually made any move.

Turning towards the wall, she covered her eyes and began to count slowly.

"Come on," Xander urged. "We've got to hide."

"Can she truly find us?" she asked, beginning to get into the spirit of things.

"Oh, yeah. There's nothing we can do that she can't."

"Ten. Eleven." Willow deliberately raised her voice, warning them.

"Oops!" Xander dashed off.

Though still not sure she truly understood the game's rules and the purpose of it, she followed him. There really was no harm in participating in this game, frivolous and strange though it seemed to her.

"Twenty!" Willow cried out triumphantly. "Ready or not, here I come." Pushing off of the wall, she breathed once deeply before turning to find them.

"Do you need any help?" one of the guards asked, wanting to follow her for two reasons. One, it was his duty to protect Eowyn for she was their ruler in Theodred's absence. The second was his curiosity about just how this slip of a girl with no sight would find three people in their town.

"No, thank you," she replied graciously. "But if you're worried, you can come with me." She kept her sigh of irritation silent, resenting the man who followed her. His doubt and curiosity irked her even as she reminded herself that he didn't know her. How could he be expected to believe what she said?

"_You have been here long enough for them to know what you are capable of. They should not doubt your words for they have seen proof of your abilities to do exactly what you say_."

The voice that spoke to her was familiar. She smiled slightly, welcoming his presence in her mind. In all the time he had come, he had done nothing to her. Had offered her no harm and had let her rant about things no one else would listen to. Though some of what he said discomfited her, he meant no harm by his words. And she paid them no mind for they were harmless. "_Anatar. How are you? And they have other things on their minds than me. Why should they be pay attention to me when their country is in grave danger_?"

"_You are very good at deflection, Willow. Even if they are occupied, one would think they would learn all they could about their allies. Then again, he is only an infantryman_."

"_What does that mean_?"

"_As heartless as this may sound, infantrymen are merely fodder for the enemies' weapons. They are always the frontline men. First in battle, first to die for their country, they are not required to do any deep thinking._"

"_That's terrible! Oh, I just found Connor_."

Sauron pulled free and left her, content with his marginal success on her. Though she had been disturbed by what he had said, she had easily let it go in pursuit of this game she played. Contemplating his army, he sighed and knew that he was going to lose Isengard, blast the luck that had saved that cursed Istari, Gandalf.

Or brought him back from the grave, for he knew that he had fallen to his death. He felt the loss of the Wizard when it happened, something that had puzzled him at the time. Gandalf had come back, more powerful than he had been before. It was a shame that he could not be turned for the man had definite potential. He knew that he, like others, had been tempted by the power in his Ring.

For only a moment, he contemplated the sorry fate of Saruman, and then forgot about it.

The White Wizard had attempted to betray him. To steal his Ring and use it for his own purposes, whatever they had been, masked as they had been by his fine lies and careful truths. What care had he over his fate?

"My lord, Shelob has been killed."

"Excellent. That pesky spider was becoming more of an inconvenience than a help. Definitely a drain on my patience," he said, turning to face the orc. "How was she killed? Quite brutally, I hope for her continued defiance."

"With an elf blade," he revealed, tremulously.

"WHAT?" Sauron flared, watching the orc cower before him. "Find the one who dared to bring a weapon like that into my domain and did not present it to me. I was him disposed of. And if it is not one of our own, I want that person brought to me immediately."

"Yes, my lord."

Sauron contemplated diving back into Willow's open mind and searching for what he wanted. It was just possible-though not probable-that these hobbits, these small creatures, had managed to enter his land with his Ring. If they had come, she would know. The secret would be behind one of the doors that had been locked against his continuous prodding.

Shaking off that tempting thought, he decided to wait. Her secrets would not stay secret for long. He would have each and every one soon. They were his, as she was, as all Middle-Earth would be.

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Cordelia frowned, "Denethor wishes to speak to me? Of what possible use could he have for asking this?"

"I do not know, your highness. Lord Denethor has been an erratic prisoner but he has offered no harm to any of his guard. Nor has he attempted to harm those who have visited him. He has not attempted to turn any away from your reign," the man said. "In all honesty, if not for the sober tone he had, I would think that he was not making an earnest plea to see you."

Thinking for a moment, she nodded. "All right. I will grant him an interview-where he is. I do not want him anywhere near that devilish thing for it is too much of a temptation to him. That is what clouded his mind and twisted it away from the good of his country to gaining all that he could in his own name. I do not want to take the chance on it getting a hold over him again for he is a good man, a decent man who does love Gondor. If he can be reclaimed from the darkness, I wish him to have that chance. "

"Are you sure that is wise, majesty? There are some who would view your actions as weak for you are letting an accused traitor speak to you when he requests it," he delicately asked.

She bit her tongue to prevent herself from snapping at him. Giving in to her temper would do neither of them any good-and only bring harm to her plans. Not to mention, he made a very good point. There were still a few people in the court who were uncomfortable with her reign.

Still, to deny him a right to speak, no. She just could not do it. "I am only sure of one thing; if I deny him the right to speak to me then I would be as bad as he is. Denethor's actions may indeed be reprehensible but his intent was good. He started out as an honorable man who merely lost his way. It is my duty-and the intent of my heart-to give him a chance to prove himself worthy of his family name."

"Very well, majesty. I shall see to it. When do you wish to see him?"

"I will be involved with the dwarves for the rest of the afternoon as they wish to show me the work they have completed. I am also expecting a delegation of Lothlorian elves-and do not act so. They are a part of Middle-Earth and played an important part in the last battle. We shall need their skills and their knowledge in this battle. My scouts have reported to me only this morning that Sauron is on the move. He will be at our gates in two mornings-and we are still far from prepared for him. I shall speak with Denethor first thing in the morning."

"I will make the arrangements, majesty. Your usual guard shall accompany?" he asked, making sure.

"Of course. As will an elf and a dwarf, for we must show forth a united front. If we are ever to defeat Sauron, this is how we shall stand-together." Rising for her seat, she thanked him for his help and patience. "These are dark times. I am thankful for all the good men and women who stand firmly by my side. If Prince Imrahil arrives, tell him where I am. He may join us if he so wishes."

Bowing, the man left.

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Tara sat back, watching Merry and Pippin, nervously waiting. She knew that Gandalf was on his way with the Rohirrim for they would need to see to Saruman. Journeying with him would be Giles and Buffy. They would come and then, what? The defining moment that would reveal her fate would arrive with them. She had to make a good impression upon them.

She just _had_ to, Glory was counting on her.

Giles and Buffy walked towards her, a pensive look on his face. Of her, she couldn't tell what she was thinking for her face was shuttered tightly-and her mind was locked against her subtle prodding. She stood up and met them halfway, figuring it was best to be seen as capable of caring for herself. A shy smile graced her face, "I'm Tara McKlay."

"Rupert Giles, this is Buffy Summers. Tell me, Ms. McKlay, how you came to be here. Were you doing something magical?" he asked, reserving judgment about her. There was something…funny about her, about the feel around her that had nothing to do with Isengard. It tweaked his mind. Still, he felt it only right to give her the benefit of the doubt since Buffy was suspicious of her.

"Magical?" she stumbled, not expecting that question. For a moment, she considered denying it. But thought better of it and shrugged, "I am merely a dabbler, Mr. Giles. I do not believe that I am capable of drawing the kind of energy required to do this."

Giles kept his own opinion about that to himself and she continued quickly, "I was not doing anything. I had just gotten off work and was walking home. Yes, I know that I am not dressed for it. Our uniforms stay at work for they require special handling to keep them in good shape. The next thing I knew, I was here. I'm just glad that I didn't have to go back to work for this is my two weeks vacation, I was thinking about visiting my family. Oh!" she exclaimed, her distress at the thought of her family very real-and convincing. "Do you think they'll know I've gone missing and cause trouble?"

"It all depends on various factors, such as if they were expecting you to show up at a certain time-if at all. Are you close to anyone who would notice your absence after a few days? Or even hours?" he pointed out, watching her. Yes, the distress about her family was real-but wrong. The fear she felt was not correct, she feared them-not for them.

Tara shook her head, "Like I said, I was only thinking about visiting. My roommate is away on a trip of her own. She invited me to join her if my plans didn't work out. I said I would think about it. What is going on?" she asked, turning their attention towards the commotion at Isengard.

"I'll go find out," Buffy offered, walking away quickly before Giles could refuse her suggestion. Which actually wasn't much of a suggestion but an order couched as an offer. Glad to get away from them, she pondered the girl-this Tara-in question. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew she'd seen that girl before. It bothered her that she couldn't remember where. And the nagging feeling that it was important wouldn't let her go.

"You think you have won, Gandalf, that your much loved hobbits will save you. But you do not see the graver danger you are in. Sauron seeks not his Ring, though he covets it still. There is another he wants now. One whose power is greater still," Saruman taunted them, but there was weariness in his voice. A fear that he could not quite cover under a veneer of superiority.

"He speaks of Willow," Aragorn murmured, glancing over at Gandalf to see if his guess was even slightly correct. For he could be wrong. It could be this Dawn that Sauron knew of, the girl who was born with the ability to destroy all life.

"I believe that he does," he replied, a troubled look entering his eyes.

"Do not think that your friend is immune to him for his ways are strong. Even now, he is working on her. His voice is a siren's song with a power far greater than my own. She has already fallen prey to his Ring, to his touch. It will not be hard for him to grab hold of her."

"Why do you tell us of these things? What do you seek to gain?" Gandalf challenged him, his questions ringing out between them. The accusations clear.

Saruman stared down at them, a pensive and saddened expression in his eyes-the only emotion he allowed to be shown in his face. "I know that you will not believe it, my old friend, but I still desire the best for Middle-Earth. There are things that I have seen which haunt my mind, that give me no rest. A world in his hands with her power as his fist…it is a most terrible and unhappy destiny. Take this and use it wisely as I could not."

The palantir came down to them as Saruman turned and entered the dark tower that was home and prison both.

Gimli stared at it as it rolled to a stop nearby. A touch stopped the dwarf's forward motion, "Touch it no, my friend, for it will do more harm than good in the hands of one it was not intended for. I do not wish to lose you," Legolas admitted softly, withdrawing his hand as though afraid that he had overstepped his bounds. Of all the time they had touched, it had always been Gimli who had instigated it.

Looking back at him thoughtfully, Gimli moved back a pace to stand beside him.

Aragorn took off his cloak and wrapped it around the glbe before passing it to Gandalf. "The time is not right for future seeking, for revealing myself to him," he quietly said.

"What did that scaryman mean? Was he talking about Willow?" Buffy harshly demanded to know.

"I am afraid so," Gandalf said, turning to face her.

Buffy seethed, making a few connections of her own. Lindsey was there. And he was a self-serving preservationist.And Sauron would make an excellent protector against Glory and those of Wolfram and Hart. "I knew it was a mistake for us all to come here. We left her vulnerable to attack." Whirling about, she dashed off towards the waiting horses. "Giles, if something happened to Willow because you discounted my impression, there will be hell to pay!"

Eomer rode up and extended his arm, which she grasped. Hoisting her up behind him, he explained. "It will be faster if I take you. There are paths that I know of that you do not."

"Ride," she ordered, holding tightly to his waist as the horse shot off.

"Yes, sir," he almost sarcastically said.

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Sauron watched all this and frowned.

Saruman would pay for this. Whether by their hands or his own, he would pay for this.

Diving into Willow's mind, he sent her conscience into a deep sleep-and took control. Rising from the bed, she walked soundlessly out of the Golden Hall and through the sleeping town. She headed out of the gates to the waiting Angmar, meeting not a soul for no one was out on this still night.

Extending his arm, the Nazgul helped her onto his beast and, holding tightly to her, took off towards Mordor.


	22. Betrayed By A Friend

_Author's Note and thank yous: Surprisingly enough, I have not died nor lost interest in this story. And I must say, if I ever complain about computer troubles, remind me of the health calamities that have been running rampant in me family. I got very sick (and I do mean very sick), my sister had to go to the hospital for various tests, and my mom had a mini-stroke being just a few of them. I am so sorry that I have been silent with everyone, I have not meant to be so evilly negligent. Thank you, Carnen and Louvil, I didn't mean to be so silent but…I'm sure you all know how life has a tendency to mess with someone. Sighs As for the confusion, yeah. I realized as I went over it that it does have 'huh' moments. Once it's all finished, I'll go back and see what I can do about that. I'd do it now, but I'm afraid I'll mess something up. Badly. Carnen, I'll write to you soon. I promise. Sorry for the long silence, it wasn't my intention to be so quiet, I swear._

_Warning: This chapter contains what may be construed as romantic smarm. You have been warned._

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Luthien watched him, a considering look on her face as he stumbled along. Of course, she was pleased that he followed her mental prodding, but he troubled her. There was something dark, something foreboding about him that she could not ignore. However, he was not her concern.

Yet. "Beren, my own, my love, a strange, twisted one is coming to you."

"My soul, my heart, what shall I do?" Beren asked, walking towards her, in his own form once more. Their hands touched briefly before interlocking and they turned as one to watch the man move along.

"Talk with Cordelia, see what she knows of this man. I fear that you shall find no true worth within him," she sighed.

"Why should that be?"

"Strong enchantments hide his truth from my eyes. If not for the small chance that his twisted nature may be destroyed, I would say to you that you should kill him upon seeing him. There is an evil within him that will not rest easy," she shivered.

Turning to face him, she smiled brightly. A sad attempt to shrug off her melancholia but one Beren appreciated. "Soon this shall be over and we shall return to our rest. Aragorn has come into his own at last. He has accepted his lot and has found it good."

"And Boromir?"

"His fate remained undetermined for it is up to him to decide what shall happen to him in the end. His battle is far from over. His true journey merely beginning. This is the fate of all who have been touched by darkness and found their nature challenged."

"His fight would be lessened if his friends were beside him," he commented, adding a soft, sad. "Yet, they have their own parts to play in this world."

"Sauron has taken Willow," she calmly informed him.

Closing his eyes, he bowed his head, his hand tightening on hers momentarily. "It was to be expected, she was to tempting for him to resist her. You must prepare Xander for what is to come. That young man may be our only real hope for the hobbits draw near to the mountain. They, and that creature Gollum, have almost completed the task given them. The others have found Dawn-and continue to move into danger with her. I fear for this world."

"As do I," she squeezed his hand in return. "Yet, I think that we are underestimating this generation of beings. They are not quite so willing to relinquish their life to the dark."

"They will need that courage. Until we see each other, fare thee well, most beloved one."

"I shall remain with thee always, treasure of my heart." Sharing a tender kiss, they parted and readied themselves for what was to come.

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Xander and Eowyn sat silently eating breakfast. The silence of the room was not uncomfortable for all that they were relative strangers. Eowyn sat back, watching him, curiously relaxed for all the stress of the past few months. "Thank you for inviting me to join you in play yesterday. It was what I needed," she finally said, noting his curious look.

Xander waved it off. "You looked like you needed it-and Connor's deemed you family."

"Why would he do that?' she asked, startled by this mater of fact statement. "He does not even know me."

"Connor does not need to know you to like you. Or to adopt you," Xander said with a shrug, as though he could not figure out the mind of the boy. "You have been kind to us all despite our strange manners and dress, so he likes you."

"He does not do this to all he meets?" she asked, watching him. At the back of her mind, something thrummed urgently and she knew it was her brother.

He was coming-quickly.

"No. He doesn't like MacDonald."

"Make way for Lord Eomer!" A voice outside hollered into the clear morning air. They quickly stood up, startled by the call and the sound of rapidly pounding of hooves. Calmly they walked outside to greet the returning warrior.

"Xander, where's Willow?" Buffy urgently asked, leaping off of the horse before Eomer had brought him to a complete stop. Already, she was striding up the stairs to stand in front of them, not noticing the looks she was garnering from those in the hall.

"She's sleeping," he replied, confused by her manner.

"Are you sure?"

Something in the way she said it caused a chill to run down his spine. As one, they went into the Hall and up the stairs. They immediately opened the door and went into Willow's decidedly empty room.

"May be she went for a walk?" Xander tentatively suggested, not believing his own words.

Buffy didn't bother to reply, her withering look was answer enough.

"Sauron knows she can't bear his land yet," he quietly pointed out, his hand coming to rest on her vibrating shoulder. "And we know you were successful in your battle, Isengard has fallen and is no longer in his grip. Where would he take her?"

"I don't know. But I intend to find out."

Xander felt a shiver run down his spine, her voice and look was so cold, he feared what she would do. "Buffy," he cautioned. "Don't start down a path you can't come back from."

Her hand slammed against the door frame, fire in her eyes as the post splintered.

Whirling about, she stalked back down the stairs, Xander at her heels. Into the silence, she demanded of him, facing him again, "What am I supposed to do? Ignore this?"

Her body vibrated with angry tension as she spat out questions. "Let it go? Let her go? Is that what I should do? Accept what's happened? Get over it? Move on? Leave her where she is? Is that it? Is that what I should do? Tell me, Xander, is it?"

"Of course not," he said, not backing down in the face of her anger. "I would never suggest such a thing. But you should not do something that would put you in danger-and prevent you from getting to her."

"That is wise…"

_**SMACK!**_

Gandalf's head snapped as her fist solidly connected with his jaw.

"This is your fault," she accused him.

"Buffy," Giles cautioned, stopping when she turned upon him. Her eyes…they were so devoid of anything but fury and indignation. The only time he'd ever seen that look was in Faith's eyes after the death of Allen Finch. He did not like what it foretold.

"Don't, Giles. I knew I was needed here-and I told you that. I told you what I felt-but you listened to him," she harshly spoke, jabbing a finger in Gandalf's direction. "And I am sick of listening to you when you have no idea what you are dealing with. Find her."

"That I cannot do for the gift of prophecy is not mine."

"Do not give me that bunch of horse manure, Gandalf. You should know better than to try it with me. You know ways to find out what I want. Find her-I know you can."

"I would never look into the palantir for such a thing. Your friend is now lost to us."

"Then so is your world because I will tell you this as the Chosen One, the Vampire Slayer-demons are coming. Glory's arrival ripped wide open the portal between our worlds-and I will not fight them for you. I will not lift one finger to stop them. And this world will perish because your magic and your weapons will not save you from them for you do not know a thing about them. By the time you figure out how to fight them, to defend yourselves from them, there will be nothing left."

Gandalf's look was openly skeptical. Contrary to her opinion, he'd listened to Giles and learned from him. He knew what a slayer was-and what they were called to do. "You would never be able to resist if they come for they will attack the innocent."

"Oh, would I not?" she challenged him, moving to stand right in front of him. Her blue eyes were icy with intent. Her words coldly firm, there was no denying her honesty. "I will save my family-that is all. And all the deaths that come after will rest upon your head, Gandalf-not mine. They will be upon your head because you have chosen not to act. You are leaving her in Sauron's hands-and I will not reward you for that utter betrayal."

She walked off, ignoring Giles' call after her.

Xander followed her, a resigned look on his face.

"Where are you going?" Eowyn asked, worried about him.

"With Buffy," he replied, glancing at her, resigned. "It is where I am most needed."

"'Uffy! 'Ander!" Connor screamed, tearing down the hall, Wesley and Fred at his heels. "No bye. No BYE AGAIN!"

"Sorry, sweetie, but this is another time for bye. There's a man I need to see about something," Buffy explained, catching him up in her arms.

"'Low went bye too," he sadly told her. "Went away on dagon. No bye."

"Dragon?" she asked, glancing back at Giles.

"Uh-huh. Saw her. No bye," he repeated., upset.

"Connor, stay with Fred. I am going to get her back. You need to be brave for us."

The little boy pouted, unhappy that his family was being torn apart again. But he nodded, straightening his shoulders. "Bave," he repeated, going to Fred willingly when the slayer passed him over.

"Dragon," she repeated, her voice hard. "Always a first time for everything." Stiffening, her eyes narrowed, sensing something off in the air. Spinning around, hand already out, she grasped the thing by the throat. Almost before her head had swiveled to join her body, her fist was already in mid swing.

"Boro?" she asked, shocked when she saw what she held. Her fist dropped away from him before it could connect with a powerful punch. He stood there, eyes wide with fright as he stared back at her, recognizing her for who and what she was.

The hallway was silent. Not even the animals outside were heard to utter a peep.

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Faith stopped, dropping to her knees. Waves of pain and confusion wracked her. Dimly she heard the sound of Dawn's huffing at the delay. They could all see daylight in front of them and the girl was anxious to get out of the cave and away from the remnants of the orcs who'd tried to stop them from leaving.

"Buffy," Faith whispered, stopping any snide comment. It was the first time the latent connection between the two slayers had ever come to life. They had not even known that it was truly possible, only that it was a rumored connection.

And she wished to all the powers that be that it hadn't been with this information.

"What about my sister? Is she okay?"

"She's in pained confusion," she murmured, trying to shake off the paralysis that gripped her in its icy clutches. For the first time since becoming a slayer, she felt overwhelmed by all that she was seeing and sensing.

It was, as her Watcher had once put it, synaptic overload. "Boromir's a...vampire?!?!"

Angel winced, hating himself for the look that entered both females' eyes-and that knowing smirk on Spike's face. A smirk that reminded him-painfully-about how many times the blond had said they should tell the slayer before it was too late. Angel had known that she would find out soon enough, he had just hoped that it would be at a much later date.

There was also a part that hadn't wanted her to know because he feared what she'd do to him.

"Faith," he began.

"Don't," she viciously cut him off. "Just don't, Angel. I'm sure there were reasons for why it happened. But I don't want to hear them. I can't."

Standing up, she stalked off.

"You made Boromir a vampire?" Dawn asked, confused disbelief on her face. "Why would you do such an idiot thing? You're supposed to be the smart one."

"He was dying," he simply answered.

"So you condemned him to an eternal death?" She shook her head, following Faith.

"Told you, mate," Spike said, unable to resist the opportunity to taunt him. This opportunity was just to good to pass up. "They'd have taken it better if you had trusted them instead of your fears and doubts. You betrayed them deeply-something they won't forgive and forget easily. Especially Faith, she regarded you family, a kind of father if you will."

He left Angel standing alone with his thoughts. The darkness of the cave suited his mood perfectly.

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Oz kept pace easily with they fell beast carrying Willow, his senses on full alert. As they entered the Northern Lands, he wished that he'd paid more attention to the maps in the libraries of the elves-especially Elrond's. He vaguely recalled this land as one that Bilbo mentioned passing on one of his journeys, though he couldn't quite recall which journey it might have been.

The hobbit loved to talk and share his past. Oz was a willing ear and Bilbo had spent much of his time with the werewolf, speaking of things in the past.

Sometimes, it paid to be unperturbed.

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"Where is Lord Boromir?" Halissa asked, nearly dropping her supplies in shock to find the mortal man missing.

"He has gone to face his destiny at last," Galadriel replied evenly.

Halissa stared at her, eyes wide in horrified wonder. "But…But he cannot possibly be ready to face the world yet. He was deeply asleep when I left. There were no signs that he was recovering. Master Giles felt he would not recover for a long while."

"Child, he is far more ready than any of us gave him credit for. Fear not for him, he shall be well," she consoled her. "As for Master Giles, he does not know everything. For all of his knowledge of the mystic, there are many things that will forever remain unknown to him as they are to us all."

"Will he be safe?"

Galadriel could not answer her with more than a look.

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Cordelia waited in the hall to greet Gloin's emissary to arrive. Along with emissary of the elves, this promised to be an…interesting meeting. She half hoped that they would arrive at different time, though she had no confidence that they would. Through listening to several different people, she knew that the two races did not get along any longer.

This meeting would try her patience greatly-something that neither she nor Beren had a great deal of.

The sound of arguing brought her out of her thoughts. She frowned, unhappy to have them confirmed-loudly confirmed. Sighing, her eyes snapping momentarily with rage, she smoothed it away. This was not the time to give in to her irritation for there would be nothing gained by it.

Walking out, she looked at the diverse groups before her and graciously greeted them. Or she tried to. What came out was anything but a greeting-it was more along how Faith would have introduced herself to the fighters. "Am I allying myself with children then? Children who should be spanked for their inappropriate behavior and sent upstairs without supper and put under the supervision of a nanny? Had I wanted such, I am sure that there are many to be found in my own city walls that will serve me well."

Cordelia was relieved that her words were far more dignified than anything Faith would have said at least.

Haldir and Nori turned at the rebuke, slightly startled. "How dare you?"

"Save it for the field of battle," she interrupted the dwarf. Though the words were all from Beren, the attitude was pure Cordelia. This was her domain and she was not going to tolerate this behavior when there were bigger enemies to slay. "I need help fighting this battle against Sauron's ever growing darkness. He has gained himself a powerful ally, one that we do not know truly how to combat. Shall we further help him by proving our own inability to let go of that which cankers us? We need to stand united in our purpose. If you cannot do so, I wish that you would speedily remove yourselves from Gondor. More strife and dissention I do not need-especially within my own household."

"I am Haldir, sent here from the courts of our Queen Galadriel. She sends you her greetings. I apologize for my behavior, my king," Haldir said, bowing. Then he caught the implications of her words. "He has the _sidhe_?"

"Indeed he had, stolen from Rohan's own Golden Hall last night."

"That is not good," Nori bluntly stated, recalling what he had heard about the _sidhe_ and her friends. Powerful and loyal to each other, they would stop at nothing to save each other. It was a daunting thought to know that they would soon be seeing these strangers in action-especially the one they called slayer.

"That is an understatement, Master Dwarf. One that I value," Cordelia replied, a slight smile on her face. "And I am not the only one you owe an apology to, Lord Haldir. Nor is he the only one who should apologize."

"I apologize for my words, Lord Nori," he stiffly said, stung by her rebuke.

"The error was not entirely your own, Lord Haldir," he replied as stiffly, though he actually faced the elf and bowed respectfully to him. "I offer you my apology as well."

"Now that we are on…good terms again," Cordelia spoke dryly, barely refraining from rolling her eyes, "Perhaps you would care to join me on an expedition."

"I have no objections," Nori said, a smile of anticipation on his face.

"Nor have I," Haldir bowed his head, looking at her expectantly.

"Then follow me for there is something we must attend to before we can even begin to prepare for the fight against Sauron. There is currently in my dungeons the old steward of this fair city, a Lord Denethor. He has, until recently, been speaking of the doom to fall upon our world. His tune has changed and I wish him to see that there is hope for us for I greatly wish to have him reinstated as the Steward of Gondor for he is a fair man. Or was until the palantir bedeviled his mind and beguiled his senses. With you by my side, I hope that the rest of Sauron's power will ease."

There was an unspoken '_as long as you do not return to childish behavior_' in her words. It was almost amusing to see the way the two races bristled at the undertone of her words, as though she had no reason to imply them.

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Saruman stood, staring out the window. He couldn't believe that he had told Gandalf what had happened. It was almost to much for him to take in. He had betrayed Sauron to them and the Dark Lord would take his time in getting revenge upon him.

Oddly enough, he could not regret it and he wondered if there was more truth in his words to Gandalf than he had originally thought.

Wormtongue cleared his throat and he glanced back at his only companion. He stood in the shadows, barely discernable from the dark walls. There was a strange look of filth about him that Saruman did not care for. For a moment, he wondered what the man would do if he was ordered to bathe in the waters that surrounded their tower. "What is it?"

"Was it wise to tell them what you did, my lord? Would it not have been better to bargain with them for our freedom?" he asked, moving into the light.

Saruman shrugged negligently, "I do not think we would have gained what we wanted. There are other ways to freedom-and you have seen what having that girl within his reach has done for Sauron. Do you really wish to face him again? If they rescue her, we may yet have a chance for escape. Escape that is not possible if Sauron wins the day. No, I see no harm in guiding them towards the truth."

"And what of the Ring?"

"The Ring is of no importance, Wormtongue, do you not yet understand this? That girl and her friends are all Sauron needs now for they bring a power with them that we cannot truly combat. We cannot fight against them and their knowledge. It would be better for us to help them than hinder them under the circumstances. Sauron will not help us," he replied, a bitter pill to swallow. But it had to be done. "No, Wormtongue, our only hope is in their success."

Wormtongue was silent as he sat down near him, looking out the window. "Do you think they will make it?"

"I do not know," he sighed as he replied. "I simply do not know."

With those words, Wormtongue had to be content.


	23. It Cannot Be, You?

Buffy stumbled back, shock written on her face. Shock and betrayal. "No," she whispered, shaking her head, denying her senses. Denying everything that her senses were screaming at her, that they pounded into her head.

"I am afraid so," Boromir replied, not moving from his spot.

The heart dropped to Buffy's shoes and she trembled from the loss. It was almost as bad as losing Giles to the trial the Council had inflicted upon them both. "Stay here. I cannot deal with this," she pleaded, with little inflection in her voice. "I cannot."

Boromir nodded, his eyes were dark with sadness and pain. A confusion that mirrored her own and a desire to comfort her even as he wished to be comforted. "I understand. Oz is following after Willow."

She didn't even bother to question how he knew for she did not want to think about it, just nodded and left.

Xander waved hi before going with her. Though he felt she would not be pleased with him for he had not said anything of this to her, he knew that she needed him to be there. She would need someone-and the best person for that job was him. They had been through to much for this to truly separate them.

Giles cleared his throat as they disappeared from sight, "Are you really?" He couldn't finish the question, not entirely sure of the best way to say it.

"Do you doubt Buffy's senses?" he rhetorically mused. "And not entirely, there are things that seem to be lacking in me that have been found in others. I have no hunger for blood, though I will not deny that there is some appeal in it. I am more aware of the way it flows and smells when the human body is exposed to different feelings and sensations."

"Fascinating," Giles murmured.

"I am glad you find it so. If it would not trouble anyone, might I sit down? The sun is rather painful. I seem to be rather sensitive to the light of the sun than before," he explained, at last noticing who else was in the hallway. "My Lady."

"Lord Boromir, please, forgive my lack of manners. Come in and sit down," she apologized as she greeted him, conscious of her slight towards him. "Come inside and sit down, there are many empty chairs in the Great Hall."

"Think nothing more of it, this morning has been far from typical. It is not often one finds oneself on the brink of death and been spared," he replied, smiling. Following after her, he sank gratefully into one of the chairs, closing his eyes against the light that still shone in the room. After a moment, he became aware of Giles and Gandalf in the room. "I heard that Dawn has been found alive. You must be so pleased at the outcome of their quest."

"She was?" Giles asked, surprised to hear this.

"You did not know?" Boromir asked, his eyes opening to stare at him, puzzled.

"No," he shook his head. "We have heard nothing from our companions since we parted ways in Lothlorien."

"Other vampires of your world do not possess such an ability?" Gandalf asked him. This ability of Boromir's was intriguing to him, though highly troublesome in light of certain circumstances back in Gondor. "To foresee such things?"

"No. Only one was ever rumored to be in possession of such unique talents. The first celebrity vampire, it you will, a man called Dracula. It was through his association with the gypsies that he was able to transform into other creatures, survive in the light of day, and they made him devilishly difficult to kill. But, while vampires do truly exist, this vampire existence is a myth based on a real man, a Vlad Dracul, also known as the Impaler. There has actually never been any real evidence that he exists as more than a ruler and as the main character in a story," Giles stated.

"Are you sure about that? Boromir's prior knowledge of Dawn's rescue seems to belie that."

"Dracula exists, Mr. Giles. Believe me, he was one of my first clients," Lindsey said from the doorway. "Seemed to be very interested in Sunnydale, interested in Rosenberg because she was able to use the power of the gypsy spell upon Angel-until Glory came along and ruined everything for him. At least, that is what he told me. I have not seen him in many years."

"What do you know of this Dracula?" Gandalf asked. "You will both tell us of him. We have time," he finished before Giles could think of objecting. This Dracula was a vampire of a different kind and if Boromir was like him, they needed to have the facts about that laid before them now.

Or they would be lost later on.

"Then we best move to a more private chamber as I do not think that this is something you wish for many to overhear," Lindsey delicately pointed out, indicating the curious ears listening in to their conversation.

Eowyn nodded, understanding the need for privacy. In all honesty, she rather felt as though she wanted to be somewhere else. There was much of this world that she did not understand. She was not sure she wished to know more of it. "There is a rarely used library built several years ago under the suggestion of Wormtongue. Come with me."

Boromir rose with a tired sigh. As much as he wished to remain where he was, soaking in the atmosphere, he knew he could not. If this Dracula existed and bore traces of the same power that resided in his veins, then he needed to learn about him.

Once seated in the musty room, Giles stood and waited for another moment, gathering his thoughts together. That and he was also making sure that traces of Wormtongue or any evil device were long gone from the room. The last thing they needed was for someone opposing them to hear and try to use the information against them. "I suppose that I should start at the beginning with the man and then go from there." And with that, his lecture began.

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Ben wandered closer to the white walled city and paused, wondering if he dared to beg for asylum from them. Though the tremors continually shook his body, they never took him over. There were no mysterious black-outs or periods of missing time to be accounted for and he worried about it even as he rejoiced for it meant that Glory remained trapped within him.

In the back of his mind, he could feel her seething in rage. He couldn't help but fear the day she'd break lose-her revenge would know no bounds then.

Seeing a patrol of soldiers leave the city, Ben knew he'd have to make a decision soon. They would find him and, if he didn't willingly surrender, who knew what they do to him? In this world, the answer could be anything. He was a stranger, with few options and even less skills to survive this place alone. Weighing his options, he decided to surrender, they may take pity upon him.

And he needed help.

Raising his hands into the arm, he walked slowly towards them, hoping it was seen as a gesture of neutrality here as it was on Earth. And that they would not take his coming to them as a sign of falsity.

They stopped and waited until he was in earshot. "Take no more steps forward unless you are the Doctor Ben Armstrong who currently resides in a place called Sunnydale, California," a gruff voice commanded him.

Shocked, it took him a moment to answer. "I am. But how did you know about me?"

"Our King told us who you were and where to find," he replied. "I am Beregond, Captain of this company of men. If you would come with us now, we will return to the shelter and safety of our city walls."

"Of course," Ben agreed, following after them. When he entered the main hall, he nearly stopped walking, though he could not stop his jaw from dropping. His eyes blinked by the image did not change or vary.

Standing beside the throne, talking earnestly and knowledgably with one of the strangest creatures he'd ever seen and a midget, was the one and only Cordelia Chase.

Glancing up coolly, she nodded in greeting. "Thank you, Beregond. Lord Faramir and his men are ready to replace you upon the walls after you give you him report. Once you have done that, go home and be with your families. Eat and then rest in peace until you are called to return to duty. Fear not for we are well guarded."

Bowing, he murmured, "I shall leave him with you then. Thank you."

Smiling, her head shook, acknowledging and gently refuting his words. "It is no more than what you and your men deserve for all that you continuously do for Gondor and for me though you confusion must be greatly overwhelming at times. You have risen to each and every occasion. The service you and your people do has lightened my load considerably. I cannot thank you enough. Rest well from your labors, all of you, for have well earned it."

Once they had departed, she gestured for Ben to come closer to her. When he was, she looked at him directly. Her words were blunt and to the point. "I am well aware of who you are, Ben, one who tries to protect us by keeping Glory at bay and hidden. Her nature has not cancelled your own yet, quite a feat. What I wish to know is-will you be on our side even when that burden becomes to great for you? Or will you yield to it and join Sauron?"

Ben knew he shouldn't be shocked by her bluntness even though he had expected it. By the way she directly addressed his unique position.

But he was. "I do not know. I will not know until I am tested but I shall do my best to resist her and not give in to the dark's siren call, though it may tempt me beyond anything I can bear."

Cordelia's lips twisted as she pondered his words and commitment, weighing his truthfulness carefully with what she could feel of him. "Your words sound very pretty and truthful. You are correct, there is no way to determine your value until you are put to your greatest test, one I hope is long in coming for we do not need more darkness in our fair city. Yet, I will grant you asylum for I believe that there is much you can do for us before that test happens."

"Thank you," he murmured, unable to say anything else. Ben was well aware of what it cost her to accept him into their midst. He did not know if he could do the same.

"Keep your thanks for you do not yet know what will be asked of you. Nor do you know if you can fulfill the task placed before you. Dr. Armstrong, this is Haldir of the Golden Woods and Lord Nori of the Misty Mountains." She easily directed his attention towards her waiting companions, both of whom looked at him curiously.

"An honor to meet you," Ben murmured, unsure of what to do as he looked at the two. But he figured it would be best to bow, everyone seemed to be doing that around here. It was a bit of a shock to be seeing these two for, while he had known of the existence of mythical beings, these two defied what he knew of them.

"We shall determine your worth after getting to know you better," Nori gruffly said, for all that he returned the bow and there was no threat in his voice towards him. The man seemed harmless enough but Nori knew enough of hidden natures to know that nothing was ever as it seemed. He would keep an eye on this man.

Not to be outdone but knowing better than to start anything in front of Cordelia, Haldir murmured something as he bowed. He did not feel comfortable around this man. Not one bit, there was something about him that set him on edge and made him think of the Ring when it had been freed.

There was a hidden power within this man that was not good. Not good at all and he knew, from looking at the dwarf, that Nori had felt it to. While it was not a keen as his own feelings, the wariness was there.

In this, he knew that he'd found common ground with the dwarf.

The sound of a throat clearing brought their attention to the doorway. "I have a message from Rohan. Forgive my interruption, majesty."

Cordelia waved it off. "There is nothing to forgive, Gunn. What is this message you bear?"

"Theoden King wishes to inform you that he and his men are ready to ride to your side when the beacon fires are lit."

"Excellent. But what of Lady Eowyn?" she urgently asked. "What of your missive to her?"

"I did not see the Lady you speak of."

"Did you not hear any word of her that would indicate what she will do when the beacon fires are lit?"

"She will be required to stay behind for she is heir to her brother and uncle. Should they both perish, she will come and lead the men. The safety of the throne must be assured," he said. "But there are many who think that she, like other women, will ride with the men."

Nodding, she smiled. "Please, rest, Gunn, for your journey has been long and fraught with danger. You may visit with your friends and rest for I will have need of your services later."

Gunn looked apologetic, "I cannot rest just yet for I must return to Rohan. Theoden King wishes me to return after seeing you to tell him what you have said. I believe that he wishes to have better communications between us. I do apologize that I offered my services to him without talking to you." It felt extremely weird to be saying these words to her for they were coworkers. But in this, he yielded to her new status.

When they got home, she was going to pay for this whole episode.

"You did the right thing, Gunn. Tell Theoden King that I await him and his men with a lighter heart. Good speed to you. And when you return, I shall have to put you in charge of your own command. Good leaders are scarce around here," she said, watching him leave the room with a thoughtful look on her face.

Shaking it off, she returned to the matter at hand. Calling one of the healers who had been waiting in the hall, she indicated Ben. "Ioreth, this is Dr. Ben Armstrong. Dr. Armstrong, this is the leader of the House of Healing, Dame Ioreth. She will be your supervisor, since that is a term well known to you. Ioreth, give him a task in the House of Healing and a place to stay."

"As you wish, majesty," the woman murmured, glancing over at the man warily. She did not quite understand why a man would be given a task under her instead of along the walls, but these were strange times. Who was she to correct the King? "This way, Dr. Armstrong."

Ben followed after her, apprehensive. There was more than a little bit of trepidation in his footsteps as he thought of the city he was in. What kind of medical equipment would he find here? And would he even be able to use it?

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Angmar placed the sleeping girl in the tower at the edge of his realm. It was not far enough in to be a danger to her but was far away from the influence of others. Shutting the door, he leaned against the wall, settling in for a long wait.

Though he longed to be on the field of battle, this is where his Master wished him to be, protecting this creature.

Sauron had assured him that she would adjust given time. And he needed her to be on their side, not against them. Recalling her actions on the night they had met, he knew that his job was vital. She would play an important role in the battle. Somehow, his Master would use her in the best way possible.

Still, it irked him to not be in the thick of things, helping his Master that way. The field of battle was what he knew. Watching over a girl was woman's work, not the work of a warrior of his skill and cunning. It was almost humiliating to be doing this.

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Oz sighed and made his way back to Rohan, limping slightly. Disheartened for he had lost them when he had encountered nothing but a forest of thorns, they had veered off the path Bilbo had told him of before this. He knew that there was nothing more he could do for he knew that she had to have gone to Angmar's own land from that point.

His dark and deserted lands.

Without any understanding of the place, Oz had no way of getting about. Though his werewolf nature left him unnoticed by the dead who dwelt near, if any of those who lived about saw him, he'd be marked by them. There were a few humans that sided with Sauron in this war and they would note him, taking the knowledge of him to their Dark Master.

He needed help.

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Willow slept on, unaware of what was happening to her. Resting upon a bed of briars and thorns made from the same thicket that stymied Oz, her soul slept even deeper as Sauron made himself comfortable.

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Frodo, Sam, and Gollum trudged ever onward, each step dragging them wearily closer to their goal. Ringing in their ears, the noise of the orcs fighting over his precious coat still haunted them. Hounded by their own fear and tired desperation, they moved forward, pressing on into the dreary gray of morning in Mordor.

Not even the light could dispel their mood for it only reminded them of all they were missing, all that they had left behind them on this journey.

"Sam?" Frodo tentatively, quietly spoke into the silence.

"Yes, Master?" he replied, keeping his arm locked securely about him, carrying him along.

"I am sorry about earlier. I would not want anyone here but you."

"Let that trouble you no more, I have forgotten it."

"But, Sam…"

"I mean it," Sam's voice was no nonsense, but full of forgiveness. "And it is a very good thing that you feel that way, Master Frodo, for I have no intention of being anywhere but by you're side. Now, where did th…Sméagol gone off to now?"

"Over here, hobbitses. Danger. Orcs," he hissed suddenly from the shadows. His big, shiny, dark eyes appearing once by a large rock in the ever barren landscape.

Trusting him only slightly more since his aid in the cave, Sam guided Frodo over and they hunched down, drawing their cloaks over to shield themselves. Still as they could be, they waited, tense as they heard the large company start walking down the pass.

They froze, hearing the leader call for a halt-more for the sake of the slaves they were driving than themselves. The company seemed to be taking their time about it anyway, taunting their captives as they broke their fast. The smell of food, rancid and raw floated their way. Stomachs clenched tight in revulsion, they clung to each other even tighter for comfort and warmth that did little good as they waited-Smeagol cradled between them.

Hour upon hour passed in agonizing silence as they waited for them to move on, helpless to give any aid to the captured people. All they could do was offer up silent prayers-and hope that they would be strong enough for what was yet to come.

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Merry and Pippin entered the Great Hall, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, they looked about and stopped, shocked. Suddenly, there was a great cry and they rushed at Boromir, who had reentered the room but moments before. The man went down as they tackled him in a giant hug, squealing and crying out greetings happily.

"We are so happy to see you," Pippin's voice carried in the room as a smile crossed his face.

Boromir returned it, "My heart is much less burdened upon seeing you both well and safe once more. I hear that you have had quite an adventure-and that you managed to confound the great ranger himself. Not to mention a sharp eyed elf," he teasingly added.

Gimli laughed, while Aragorn looked faintly wounded. Legolas remained silent, offering up only a fond smile as his answer. At one time, such words and laughter may have offended him.

But now, now they were only signs of the friendship that had grown between them all.

"Why were you not here? Why did not come to rescue us?" Pippin asked, ignoring Merry's hushing look. "I thought you liked us."

"I was injured, young one, and had to go back to Lothlorien for healing," Boromir quietly told him. "Not a day went by when I did not fear for you."

"Are you all right now?" Merry asked, moving back to stare at him. He could not put his finger on it, but Boromir seemed different somehow. "You do not look so good."

"With every day that passes, I regain more of my strength," Boromir reassured them. Even so, he could not keep the truth from them. He knew they would learn of it soon enough for they were a curious race. Curious and far to observant for his comfort. "Yet, it is also true that I am still unwell."

Aragorn looked away from them, ashamed. He had his Captain by his side again. It felt right that he be there with them, laughing and enjoying the company of the young hobbits.

Yet, he was not wholly himself and never would be again.

Boromir enjoyed life as a half-life. He was neither living, nor was he entirely dead. The man was somewhere in between. And not comfortably in between like Spike was. He was caught up in this with his humanity in tact, though for how long that would be true was yet to be seen.

Aragorn stood up and left, unable to face him in light of his own actions. In light of what he had done, how could he face this man who called him brother? It was by his own actions, his own decision that Boromir was this way. How could he ask for forgiveness of him when what he had done was entirely unforgivable?

Boromir watched him go, a heavy weight in his heart at the sight. He knew what was on his mind and wondered how he was to alleviate that when he did not think he could find it within himself to forgive him for his actions.

Yet, he knew he would. Aragorn was needed. "Young ones, would you excuse me? I wish to have words with Aragorn."

"I wish you luck for he is unreachable by us," the elf muttered, relieved for this had been something he had hoped for ever since Boromir had returned to them. The wounds Aragorn carried could only be healed by time and this man's forgiveness.

Something that looked as though it was never in doubt or question, though Legolas knew that Aragorn would not believe that. And that Boromir would also have to struggle with it for though he had forgiven him, the actual act of forgiveness was something else.

Rising to weary feet, longing only to rest from his run, he smiled, "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Legolas," and followed Aragorn.


	24. Dracula, huh? Could Be Worse

_Author's Note: I apologize for the long delays in updating and whatnot. I've been trying to finish this before I post. Of course, it didn't help when I was bitten by another muse. I do hope that this lives up to the patient expectations of my faithful reviewers and readers. I thank each and every one of you for your continued devotion to reading a story that might never have been completed. Warning – the time line jumps all over the place. I do apologize for that_.

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Gandalf pulled at his pipe, contemplating Giles' words, Lindsey's words, and all that had transpired since his rather unfortunate, but necessary, passing. It was true what he had said to him before - things had taken a turn whose path he could not fully foresee, something he was loathe to do anyway as the future had never been his province anyway.

For now, he would allow these events to play out and see where they would lead them all. There was nothing else he could do. And it could not be anywhere worse than where they were at this precise moment in time. Or so he hoped.

Pondering his options for a moment longer, he pulled the wrapped palantir out of his bag and set it down on the desk. Aragorn would have to master it soon, reveal himself soon, and be off to Gondor as was his destiny. There was no use in delaying it farther.

Gondor, the name rebounded in his mind endlessly.

That was a nest of trouble just _waiting_ to happen. He knew nothing of this Cordelia who was acting as King there, no matter what Boromir had said. Although he knew that it truly _was_ Beren inside of the seer, he could not say for sure which truly led the country in this time of darkness and trouble.

What was more, he could see that she was handling the situation with the ease and practice of someone born and bred to rule. So, on the morrow he would leave and see what trouble brewed in Gondor. See if he could alleviate it in some way.

&&&

Boromir slowly walked outside, wincing as the setting sun's rays hit him. He _really_ wished he was sleeping instead of doing what he knew he needed to do right now.

Of course, he also wished he could call Aragorn a _boneheaded moron_ but the effect would be diminished by Aragorn's ignorance of the word's meaning.

"If you keep walking away from me, I am to think that you do not care that much for me despite all of your efforts to keep me alive," Boromir finally spoke, soft amusement there.

"It is not for me to dislike you, Boromir, but for you to dislike me for what I have done to you," he softly rebutted. "Were it not for my actions, you would now be home, in the halls of your fathers, at peace."

"Aragorn, as much as you may find it hard to believe, I bear you no ill will. In a moment of blind panic, you made a bad choice. Everyone makes them when they are under duress and trying to do the best they can. It is a little thing called life and we must learn to deal with it. To live with the consequences of our actions," he stopped before he could finish with a _suck it up and deal_.

Aragorn would neither understand nor appreciate the words-true though they were.

"How can you stand there and act as though it is nothing? As though you understand what I did and why? As though I have not ruined your life because of this decision?" he cried, desperate to understand, though he still would not turn around and look at him. Aragorn felt that if he looked, he would never be able to face himself again for he would see the ruination of the man.

"I do not understand it but I can relate to it. There is a difference," he sighed, shaking his head. "Look, as strange as it may seem to you, I do not want to dwell upon what cannot be changed. It is done. There is no good in moaning and whining about it. Doing so will not change what has happened nor the reason for it. What we must do is face it with courage and determination to not let it define who and what we are."

"I do not have that kind of courage to do what you ask," he said, facing him at last.

"You will find it," Boromir assured him. "I did not always feel this way, you know. In truth, I was - and will always have - a tendency towards arrogance and pride. But then, so do many of mankind. It is a part of being a prideful and headstrong race of beings."

"Does it ever get any easier?"

Boromir laughed, a loud and clear shout of humor that rang out into the early night air. "Are you kidding? Sometimes it becomes easier to bear - when one is with friends and loved ones, pain and sorrow is infinitely easier to take. But easier as life continues? No. Never."

Aragorn looked at him, head tilted to the side, "How did you come to be here?"

Boromir looked away for a moment, "That is quite a story, my ranger friend."

"I have time," he softly answered. "The fires of Gondor are not yet lit."

"Then I shall tell you all that I can recall. But be warned, much of it is still unclear."

He just looked at him expectantly and Boromir nodded, falling into silence to think about what to say. "The clearest thing I can recall is seeing the Lady Galadriel binding up my wounds after cleaning them. She looked straight at me, almost as if she wished to read inside my mind once more," he swallowed, recalling that moment only too clearly.

Aragorn rested his hand on the other man's arm, saying not a word. After all, there was not much he could say. The battle had been fought and won by Boromir already. To think about _what might have beens_ was futile - as he had been told, many times and by many different people.

He shook his head, refocusing on the moment, "She fed me something. Then she told me that I knew the time had come, that lying abed was no longer an option for me. Now was the time to rise and fight for my beloved city. But she warned me that I should not go it alone and pointed the way to Rohan. I knew that you were there for I had dreamed of your journey and the terrors you felt."

"You did?" Aragorn asked, looking at him, almost fearful of his thoughts. "I did not think it was possible for vampires to dream, save Drusilla. But I was under the impression that her visions were born in her before she became a vampire."

"They are not," Boromir shrugged his shoulders in an expansive way. "Yet, Lindsey seems to think that my vampiric abilities are more kin to Dracula than other vampires. I have to agree with his opinion, though I have not experimented to see if what Dracula was rumored to be able to do are my own. In all honesty, the idea that I could be like him worries me."

Aragorn shivered, "His name is rather…chilling."

"As was his mortal self," Boromir agreed. "Yet, we are not here to talk of Dracula but of my own journey. I do not understand how I made the journey in so little time, I could not have been traveling for more than a day. And yet, I know that it took the three of you at least three days to find Éomer and his men."

"Yes," he slowly replied, remembering that experience only too well. "We could not find anything other than orc remains and I…broke my toe by kicking one of their helmets in frustrated rage. It was not my best moment."

"But you are well now, right?"

"Yes," Aragorn replied, smiling at his concern. "I am dong better. But you…you said your journey only took you a day. Does that include traveling through the night? Or did you rest then?"

"In all honesty, I cannot recall what happened," he frowned, concentrating. They were quiet as he struggled to find the words. "It seems to me that I merely stepped out of Lothlórien and ran all the way here, something inside telling me I needed to get here as soon as I could. The next thing I know, I am looking at Buffy."

"Speaking of the Slayer, is she going to kill you?"

Boromir thought about it before shaking his head. "I doubt it. I am not really a threat to anyone as long as I do not hurt humans. Since I had no intention of doing so, I think I should be safe. Then again, I cannot say for sure for she is, as you have said, the Slayer. If you recall, we did not speak much, for her shock and pain was far to great. But Giles did not give me any impression that she would and he usually has his finger on her pulse."

654321

"Merry?" Pippin asked, his legs swinging as he sat in a chair twice his size. His head rested on his hand as he looked curiously at his cousin, noting the faint feverish color on his face. Was he getting sick? That happened to those who were injured, did it not? Should he get him a healer? "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," Merry replied, "But that is not what you wanted to know. What is it?"

Pippin shrugged off his concern for Merry the best he could. He would not lie to him, not about his health. Merry knew best what he was feeling. "Why does Boromir feel like Angel and Spike?"

Merry stared at him, shocked. His hand stopped fiddling with his bandages. "What are you talking about, Pip?"

"He seemed different to me. Did you truly not feel how…cold he felt?" he asked, wondering if what he felt was just his imagination but shook it off. He knew that it was not. It could not be, everyone was acting rather strangely around Boromir - especially Mr. Giles. If he was really all right, people would be happy to see him.

Thinking it over and wondering if he actually missed something Pippin caught, Merry finally shook his head. Whatever it was, he had not felt it. "Boromir told us that he is still sick, that he had to stay in Lothlórien healing. I think that is all that it is."

Pippin nodded slowly, unsure. He did not wish to doubt his friend but Merry's words did not seem quite right. They made sense but they did not fit what he was feeling coming from his friend. _May be_, he suddenly thought, _Gandalf's ball will tell me what's wrong. Saruman certainly seemed fixated on it and had not Aragorn mentioned something about future seeing_?

That night, when all was still and quiet, he crept over to Gandalf and pulled the ball out of the cloth that covered it. As he stared into its depths, he felt himself gripped by it - enticed by it…

Sauron saw the halfling and knew this was not the one he sought. And yet, he knew the one who carried his Ring.

"_Where is he_?" the question was uttered with a soft voice for he relearned that honey was sometimes the best way to get results. His normal, authoritative voice might just scare the little brat away.

"Frodo?" Pippin murmured, "Why he's…"

The palantir was snatched away and a cry of pained loss escaped as he looked in the direction it went in. "Fool of a Took," Gandalf muttered. "Now, there is no further time to waste."

"What are you talking about, Gandalf?" Giles asked, accepting the recovered palantir with reluctance. He _really_ did not want to have to guard this thing until Aragorn was ready to accept it. _Why had Pippin even used the thing_? He followed the Istari outside, seeing the two men sitting on the steps, talking.

"I will need to take Pippin with me to Gondor. I had wished to put it off until after I spoke to Boromir once more."

"About what?" the man in question asked, looking up as they walked by.

"Your friend, Miss Cordelia Chase," he replied.

"Why? Is she here?" he asked, glancing out at the deadened night. There was a part of him that wanted to see her and yet, now that he was a vampire - or something like one - he did not think he could bear to face her. Oh, he knew she was no snob - after all, she worked for and around vampires - but would she actually want to marry one?

He blinked, shocked at his thoughts. Had he actually thought about marriage? A slight smile crossed his face and he nodded slightly, yes, he had. He had willingly thought about marrying her. Marriage to Cordelia had not been something he had ever seriously considered before, for all of the teasing he received about getting her a ring. But there was no denying it, he would have loved to marry her.

The question was, would she still consider it?

Gandalf answered, unaware of his thoughts, "In Rohan? No. She is still in Gondor, ruling the place. But I wanted to know more about her. What is she like? Will she do what must be done?"

Boromir yawned a little, nodding to show that he was still listening when Gandalf went silent, one eyebrow raised in inquiry. When it became obvious that he was finished asking questions, he gave the matter some thought. "Cordelia is…well, she is someone you have to meet to understand. I could tell you all kinds of superficial things like her hair is dark brown - or was when I last saw her. Or that she has a keen intellect and a biting wit, almost to the point of being painful. She is materialistic and tends to be selfish but she is a generous soul as well. That she has painful visions gifted to her by the powers that be of her world. But all of these things are superficial. In order to understand Cordelia, you have to meet her."

"But will she step down when the time comes?"

"Cordelia is only here temporarily and she knows that. She will not stay on the throne for, while she may adore the prestige, she will be bored by the daily grind of actually ruling. Her responsibilities are with her world and the people there, not the people here."

"Are you sure?"

Boromir gave an exasperated sigh, "Gandalf, I have not seen her in a while. But I have learned to love this woman with all her flaws and hubris. Unless she has dramatically changed, I believe that she will leave the throne to Aragorn. You must make your own judgments upon meeting her. Nothing else will reassure you."

"The man has a point. No one can truly tell you about someone else and what they will do. You have to meet them for yourself and make your own call based upon that," Gunn's voice announced his presence. "Is Théoden King here?"

"I am, sir. What news?"

"Gondor awaits your arrival with pleasure, sire. In fact, it is eagerly anticipated and…I have a message for the Lady Éowyn. One which I must give her in private," he added, almost hesitantly. Under normal circumstances, he would not have been so reluctant. Reluctance had never been a thing he was known for - but these were not normal circumstances. He knew that he could be denied the right to directly address the lady because it may seem improper to her guardian.

The lady herself could refuse him based on her own perceptions about him. She may not trust him. From what he heard of the Lady Éowyn, she trusted people very rarely. There were only a few people - which, surprisingly, did not seem to include those in the Fellowship - that she trusted.

"I am Lady Éowyn," a cool voice spoke to his right.

Gunn stiffened at the sound until he realized that it was not the coldness of someone looking down upon him. Rather, it was merely the tenor of her own voice. It was far lower in pitch than he expected to hear from a woman. "You are Gunn, right?" she asked, walking closer to him, studying him with cool eyes.

"Yes," he said, looking her directly in the eye. He did not flinch away from the appraisal and study she gave him. Almost immediately, he could see that she would listen to him because of this gesture of respect alone. There was the tiniest of smiles in her eyes, matching the one on her lips. "The message is not from the acting King of Gondor but from Cordelia."

Éowyn recognized that name. It was not that hard. After all, Gandalf had just been speaking of her. Rather distrustfully, in her opinion. It only made her curious as to the nature of the woman they spoke of for she could tell that Boromir admired her and he was a good judge of character. "What difference does that make?"

"A whole lot because Cordelia is a seer," he replied, a twisted smile on his lips.

"I see," she slowly said, "What words would a seer have for me?"

Gunn did not know if he should reply in this room. As he said before, the message was for her ears alone and it had to be her decision about what to do. If he spoke in company, the reactions of those around her may influence her.

Not to mention, it was not a message that had any kind of comfort - especially since he knew what it may mean in the end for this woman. He had seen enough of the lives of the women of Middle Earth to know that they rarely, if ever, held true positions of power.

True, those in Rohan seemed to have some kind of authority, but it was nothing like those on Earth had.

Sensing his distress - and quite possibly the reason for it, she gestured for him to come with her. When her uncle moved to follow, she shook her head, negating his move. "I believe he said that this message is for me alone. If I decide that it applies to you or the Rohirrim, I shall inform you of its contents. But I do not think it will be necessary."

Trusting in her judgment, Théoden stepped back and turned to speak with Gimli about…something. Knowing that his mind would be far from their conversation, the dwarf talked about nothing important. It was not that hard. The dwarf's own mind was puzzled as to why a seer would have words for a woman of Middle-Earth. Surely, her power would only affect those of her world?

Gunn followed her outside and they stood, looking out at the town before below once they had come to a stop. "What is the message?"

"The White Lady of Rohan must fight in the battle over Gondor," he simply said, appreciating her bluntness. "There is a task appointed to you for no other can do it."

Éowyn was silent before turning to contemplate him. In her mind, she could hear the legends of her people, of the Shield Maids of Rohan and what they had often been called to do. Yet, she never thought it would apply to her for all that she had trained herself to fight and to ride as well - if not better - than they. "I have my duty to perform for my people and country here, in Meduseld. I cannot simply abandon them. It would not be honorable or right."

"Does not your duty in this time of darkness extend to the greater world? Does it not include your new ally?" he asked, recognizing the struggle in her eyes. It was similar to the one he faced each and every day he woke to face the battle under the very evil he had hated before. Though he knew that Angel was different, the fact that he was a vampire remained a constant in his mind.

Any moment of the day, Angel could lose his soul. Well, if Wolfram and Hart ever found a way around the spell that Amy and Willow had performed to permanently bind his soul to his demon. And Gunn was no fool. He knew that they were looking into it. If Angel ever fell into their web, heaven help them. For he would know their strengths and weaknesses and he was not sure he could kill him.

He really wasn't.

Éowyn was silent and Gunn knew she was mulling over his words. He was grateful that she did not immediately agree to do this. It showed a great deal of her true character that she weighed over her decision.

Walking a pace away, she stared out at the night sky as if it contained the answers that she needed, "I do not know. My people need me here. We are to move to our sanctuary for though our foes have been thoroughly defeated - the danger is still great. My duty to my country has been the one thing that has kept me from giving into the despair that has followed me since the coming of Wormtongue.

"What you ask of me…is something that some may see as treason towards my real duty. Though my uncle sides with Aragorn and Gondor, the rightful king of our entire, if I do this and fail - even if I succeed - I may be covered with shame and find myself an outcast. An exile among my own people, I do not know if I could live with the outcome of such a choice."

Gunn opened his mouth to respond, though he was not sure what to say when she pinned him with a look of such determination, his respect for her went up several notches. For all the sorrow of her words, there was an iron will behind them, "And yet, I cannot turn my back upon this task appointed to me for I know that you speak the truth. I am the only one can do this. It is a heavy task that will weigh greatly upon my shoulders."

"You will not be alone in this for there is another who is destined to stand at your side," Gunn told her. He meant to comfort her but he could tell from the way her back stayed ramrod straight that it did not work at all.

"In battle that will prove to be to be true but after it is over?" she sighed, an arm brushing away a stray hair. "I fear it will not be so for I will have committed an act that is grievous in the sight of my uncle and king, Théoden."

"Éowyn," a voice pierced the silence with harshness.

She turned towards, a slight frown on her face, "Éomer." There was no point in asking how long he had been there, she knew her brother as he did her. He had heard the whole thing and was angry with her.

Gunn felt out of place and quietly excused himself, though he was pretty sure that they had not heard him at all. In a way, he was grateful for he wished to be spared the wrathful glance of Éomer.

The siblings stared at each other, locked in a silent battle of wills. Gunn almost wished that he had not spoken for he could see the silent, unshed tears in her eyes. Destroying a person's peace of mind and making them question their own self had not been his intent.

But he believed in Cordelia and the strength and power of her visions, they were not random or even controllable. They came when they would, not when she willed them to. Or even how she wanted them to for they had been growing violent of late, though she was unaware that he knew. Still, Éowyn's unhappiness caused by his message did not sit well with him, it was heavy in his stomach.

"What are you thinking?" Éomer all but shouted at her, seething with rage.

"I am thinking of the greater good of all," she replied, meeting his ire with an icy calm. She had never flinched from him and his anger before - she would not do so now. "There is no doubt nor question in my mind that I must do this. That I, alone, can stand up and do whatever it is that I am being called upon to do."

It was this calm answer that silenced him for he had no doubt that she had taken careful thought about this before speaking the words aloud to him and Gunn.

Still, he could not - _would not _- be silent. This was his _sister_ they were talking about, marching off into danger. Danger that they knew nothing about. How could she be so calm in the face of this unknown mission from some crazy outsider? "How do you even know that this strange seer is trustworthy? That the word of this…woman is even sane? For she knows nothing of us or our ways."

"This I know all to well for I see these strangers mingling among us, trying to fit in but unable to do so. You have not watched them as I have, my brother," she reminded him, daring him to challenge her words. "Yet, I also know these are extra-ordinary times. You, yourself, marveled at the sight of an elf and a dwarf in honest camaraderie and an undying affection as they came to find their lost friends. What they have is a marvel. I may not survive the battle that is before me, Éomer, but I must do this. I will do this for all that I fear its outcome. I have never feared death nor battle but this? I fear this. Do not stand in my way."

"I do not understand. Why do you believe that only you can do this? Why you and not one of the Shield Maidens?"

"They are not known as the White Lady of Rohan," she simply replied.

Éomer stepped forward, recognizing her words even as he half embraced her. They had always called her their White Lady - the Lady of Hope. If ever was the time for her to step forward, now was it.

He was resigned to help her in any way he could. "I will support you in this endeavor, though I believe it is foolishness. I will always welcome you - no matter the reactions of our king and our people. In my eyes, you will gain all of the honor you may be denied publicly."

Éowyn nodded, a silent promise in her eyes as they met his once more. Though fearful of the future and her uncle and king's reaction, in this - as in all things - they were united.

777

Gunn debated over where or not to enter the Hall where could hear talking. The last thing he wished was to face Théoden King after talking to Lady Éowyn and making it clear that the message was for her alone. While he debated, Giles came out and saw him there standing there. The watcher easily read his expression but kept silent other than to greet him. "Hello, Gunn. Is everything quite all right?"

"What do you mean by all right?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Cordy's completely in charge of her situation in Gondor. Though for how long, I do not know. There are many happy to have a competent leader in charge, but there are also many who are unhappy that it is a woman. As a result, Cordy's doing a lot of political maneuverings - more than she wants to or is comfortable with now that open war is upon them. As you can imagine, she's quite anxious for squirrel boy to come and reclaim his throne. Lord Faramir's on the front lines. Since I agreed to report back to Théoden, I was unable to join him. I also stayed to keep an eye on Cordy, just to be absolutely sure that she is not harmed because of the possession and not suffering from it."

"And your message to Lady Éowyn?" he gently prodded.

"Is hers alone to share," Gunn replied.

Giles nodded, understanding that some things needed to remain silent.

"Where's Buffy and the others?"

"She has gone after Willow. I trust that you have heard all about what happened to her."

"No. But from the sound of things, I don't really want to know," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. After a moment, he found the courage to look Giles in the eye, "Tell me what it is anyway."

"She's in Sauron's hands, though we are not sure if she's in Mordor or another location," his reply was blunt.

"Yeah, I knew I didn't want to know," he sighed again. "I had better let Cordy know."

"You think she doesn't?"

Gunn's head shook, "I'm sure she does but…one can never be sure what she is allowed to see - especially in matters of this world. As acting ruler - and I still don't know how _that_ happened except that it's Cordy - of Gondor, she may only be required to see what pertains directly to her situation."

"Do you wish to eat something before you go?"

His stomach rumbled as if to remind him just how hungry he was, "I would. But I don't want to face them and their unanswerable questions."

"Ah, yes, that would be a problem. It would be most unpleasant for you. I shall get you some food. Wait here," Giles said.

"Thanks," he smiled wearily and watched the other man disappear into the Hall.


	25. Has No One Heard of Democracy?

Oz raised his head, sniffing the air. Not only did he know the smell, he recognized the familiar sound of the horses' hooves. "Buffy, Xander," he quietly greeted them as he transformed and joined them in the clearing.

"Well?" Buffy demanded, reigns tightly clasped in her hands.

He didn't eve pretend ignorance about what she was asking. "I lost her among brambles and thorns up north. We must seek a map to find our way around it. The land is treacherous for I believe that it is Angmar's own land - full of the spirits of hungry dead and those of the living who dwell in evil."

"I am not going back to that place until I have Willow with me." There was no doubt what place she was talking about.

Oz only shook his head, "I would never suggest such a thing. There is a town in the area we could visit. If there is no welcome, I know that Gimli's people would accept us. Dwarves' memories are long and they would know us as Gimli's friends."

"You speak of Dale and the Lonely Mountain," Xander nodded, recalling one of the tales he'd heard back in Lothlórien. "Good idea."

"I've been known to have them occasionally," he shrugged, though there was a slight smile on his face.

"Let's go." The order was rather hard and ignored the way her friends were trying to liven up the mood. Buffy wasn't in the mood. She couldn't take her mind off her task. And so, she didn't even wait to see if they would follow her. She rode off.

The choice - the decision - had been made the moment she had word and there was no more time for delays. They had delayed to long as it was. She knew the danger that Willow was in. In her dreams, Sauron's eye and power haunted her, stalked her. The very malevolent feel of his evil twitched her nose with its aroma. She didn't sleep much any more.

If they hesitated, debated - her friend would be lost to _**him**_.

Exchanging concerned looks, Xander and Oz followed her. Oz transformed once more, knowing that the horses would be all right with him, they had become used to him over the course of their journeys. In the back of their minds, though they tried not to think of it, worry over Buffy's current mindset taking the slightest precedence over Willow's condition. While it was never far from their minds, they were more worried about what the Slayer would do.

777

Aragorn sat, quietly contemplating the path before him through the smoke of his pipe. Earlier in the day, Gandalf and Pippin had left for Gondor. They had had to because of the hobbit's rather foolish, though well meant, intentions. Sauron's eye had turned towards them with vengeance and nothing short of total war was going to help any of them now.

"Starring will not change the path you must walk," Legolas said.

"I know. But there are times that I wish it would. Do you ever feel unable to rise to the task placed before you?" he asked, looking at the elf. "Or are you immune to such feelings?"

Legolas met his eyes evenly, "Only around the Ring have I ever felt so. Why?"

The Ranger nodded, as if he had expected that answer, "I thought as much. As for why, it matters not. There is no advice you can give that will help me do what I must do."

"If it is any consolation, Gimli and I will be by your side." Legolas smiled wryly - well, as wryly as an elf could. "I know. Gimli is dear to me - more dear than I believed possible."

"Because he is a dwarf?" he asked, curious to hear his reply.

Legolas' head shook, amusement coloring his eyes, "No, of course not. I just did not think it possible to form a friendship as deep, as enduring as ours will be, in such a short amount of time. Yes, we have endured great hardships on our journey but I believe - no, I know that we would have become friends regardless."

They sat in silence for a time, watching the smoke curl in the deepening sky. The sun crossed the horizon, covering the world in darkness as it traveled along its course. "What do you think will be the result of Willow's disappearance?"

"She will become Sauron's Ring," Aragorn answered, no doubt in his voice. He'd had a lot of time to think about this and, though he did not like where his thoughts lead, he knew with unflinching honesty that he was right. The Ring Frodo carried was no longer Sauron's focus - Willow was. "There have already been some signs of the change in her but I ignored it, not knowing what it foretold. Or rather, not wanting to believe what it foretold. In the end, she is the one we will have to fight."

"Are you sure?" Legolas asked, shivering at the thought. He was not a coward but this was completely different from fighting an orc army. Having spent much of his life fighting them, he knew what to expect. But fighting someone with Willow's powers was…daunting to say the least. There was a frightening amount of innocence to her understanding that made her more powerful because she did not know about moderation.

In Sauron's hands, that innocence would be gone. He would know how to access and use those powers to the fullest.

"I only know what I have surmised from what Giles and Boromir said. Darkness never rests easy when it has found a weakness to exploit. Willow has power, a whole well of it, and she does not know what to do with it. No one knows what to do with it - with the exception of Sauron. He will exploit and corrupt that power and her lack of viable tutor."

"But how does one kill a friend?" Legolas asked into the uneasy silence that had fallen between them. "Even one who has become…evil's handmaid?"

"I do not know."

Boromir slid back into the shadows, relieved that Aragorn was talking to someone about his thoughts and troubles. His stomach twisted up, making him uncomfortably aware that he had not fed. Shuddering away from the thought of feeding, he almost missed Giles' arrival, though the demon recognized the scent of a meal. "Hello," he greeted the watcher, uneasily aware of his drawn fangs.

"Boromir," Giles returned the greeting calmly. Taking a closer look at him, he nodded, as though he'd been expecting something like this to happen, "You are hungry."

"I can control it."

"Not this early in your transformation," he contradicted. "I do not wish to discomfort you but these are early days yet. You were very lucky not to feel hunger on your journey here. But you must take control of your demon now before it does. You must learn to hunt and fed now or the bloodlust will become too intense. The outcome of which I am sure I do not need to tell you about. You cannot risk the backlash and what it may do to you and those around you."

"And how do I do that?" Boromir snapped. "I thirst for blood - not food. The only blood about is from my allies - whose blood I cannot take without destroying all that my Captain and king has worked so hard to accomplish. I will not eat their horses which would have a far worse outcome. Not to mention that I do not know how to hunt, I was thrust into this with neither choice nor sire to guide me. I have no one to teach me what I need in order to survive. I am without family for I am a new breed of vampire and do not belong solely to the night nor to the day. Therefore, I cannot seek help among the living. I no longer fit into any world."

Giles was silent, listening to his rant. Though startled by the ferocity of his words, he was deeply relieved to hear him say anything about it. The Gondorian's unnatural calm about his new life had worried him and he had wondered - feared - what would happen when he finally broke. He'd had a few restless nights fearing that it would happen on the field of battle when none would be able to stop him.

"So tell me, Giles, how am I supposed to handle this. How am I supposed to live with this?" he finished, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at him.

"I cannot tell you for I do not know how you would do so. I have no experience dealing with what you are dealing with. All I can say is that you deal with it the same way any of us do, one day at a time."

It would be easy to mock his words, so very easy. After all, he was not the one whose body and soul were constantly at war. His world had not suddenly been torn to shreds. Giles was not caught between two worlds, two identities.

And he could not for the simple fact that, trite though his words seemed, the care behind them was very real. The friendship and esteem of the man was still with him, changed though he now was. "I cannot do this."

"You can," he contradicted, "You already are."

"So do I do?"

"I would love to say _trust your instincts_, but I am afraid that the hunter in you is the dominant at the moment. It is only your will that stops it from taking complete control over you. But you must feed. Go to the woods, find your meal there. If you start out with animal blood, I do not believe human blood will have that much of an appeal to you."

Boromir appreciated the words - and the sentiment-behind them, but he truly doubted that it would be that easy to control. Hunger silenced any words he may have uttered. Instinct guiding him, he bolted off into the night - a full fledged, brown wolf.

"That is not good," Giles observed, chilled to the core.

All of these similarities to Dracula made him very uncomfortable. For the first time in a long time, Giles felt totally and completely inadequate and unable to handle the job. Turning to go back inside, he decided it was time to question Lindsey McDonald in more detail about the legendary vampire that, until now, he'd never really believed in.

But there were just too many strange connections between the two for him to continue to put it off. He needed to know more if he was to help the young man survive - especially since Angel was not here to deal with his error. And he wondered about Angel, what would Willow's disappearance do to the souled vampire?

He shuddered, thinking about Angelus uniting in any way with Sauron. Really, the idea was just to chilling for him to contemplate and yet, he knew that he must because it was a distinct possibility.

777

Faith sat down heavily, exhausted in body and spirit. The grim and gore of orcs clung to her skin, filling her with a sense of their pervasive evil. This did not bother her much for she ached more in her heart. The sense of betrayal twisted deep inside.

In the background, she vaguely heard Angel and Spike talking. Tired in spirit, she didn't bother to listen to them argue anymore. It was all they did now. All she could think about was that Boromir - her big brother, her comrade - was a vampire.

Souled or not, she didn't think that was what Willow wanted when she asked Aragorn to keep him safe on their journey. She couldn't believe that Angel had agreed to do it. How could he?

Dawn sat stiffly down beside her.

As much as she wished to be rid of the girl so that she could wallow in her own misery, she did nothing to drive her away.

She couldn't. They were companions in grief and loss. Yet, it was more to her than the loss of a beloved friend. Everything within her screamed for Boromir's blood - as much as it wanted to rid the world of Spike and Angel.

But, as with them, she couldn't kill him, couldn't dismiss who he was to her.

And as a Slayer, that inability to destroy the vampires hurt. It burned through her with the taste of utmost failure. She felt the failure to do her duty eat away at her, even if denying them death was the right thing to do. _The worst battle_, she mused, _is the one within_.

Dawn wrapped her arms around herself, desperately wishing Buffy was there. She did not understand what was going on - or why no one would tell her _anything_. All she heard was whispers and vague statements about it. It hurt to be in the dark as much here as it had at home, though at home she had the ability to research. They were fighting creatures she'd never even heard of, who frightened her in a way that living on the Hellmouth had not.

And it made her angry to be found in this place.

"I suppose you want to know what's going on, kid," Faith finally said, looking at her.

Though she bristled at the slight, Dawn nodded, adding, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"Oh, no trouble at all - considering that you're to blame for all of this," she retorted.

"What? I'm to blame? Are you cracked? I'm not magic," she protested instantly.

"Well, I grant that you aren't to blame for the fight between the orcs. But you _are_ the one that caused Glory to sink to new lows. After all, if you didn't exist, she wouldn't have sent any of us here. Let's just say that she thought Buffy would be glad to sacrifice the Key - that would be you in case you've forgotten - for our safe release. Your sister said no rather bluntly."

As outraged as she was by this, Dawn was also proud of her sister for what had to be a most difficult choice. There was no doubt in her mind that they had grown closer in the wake of their mother's death - but she had always felt that if push came to shove, Buffy would give her up to keep her friends safe. "And Glory's response to that?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Was to send Cordy and Gunn to us," Faith replied, reluctantly proud of the way her reaction to the news. Perhaps the kid was growing up and becoming a decent human being - though she wouldn't hold her breath.

"Who all is here?"

"Everyone - and get this, Willow's a half-goddess."

Dawn's eyes bugged at that, "You have got to be kidding."

"Wish I was, kiddo," Faith said, smirking at her. "Yeah, that was her reaction as well, only it was more babbly. Giles called her a _sidhe_, which means she's some kind of half goddess. And he and Oz are something called _daemons_."

By this point, Dawn's eyes had glazed over.

"Let me also throw in one viciously arrogant and powerful spirit whose desire is for his Ring - which apparently has some wicked mojo in it, though I've yet to see any evidence of it. If he can't have that, he'll take Willow - which he's already done once and we have defeated him, so he can't be much of a threat. Add in Cordy's taken the throne of Boro's home town because the rightful heir is a bit of a coward."

Dawn stopped trying to process anything at that point, "Cordy's a queen?" she squeaked, eyes going even wider if such a thing was possible. She wasn't even going to attempt to contemplate the idea that Giles, Oz, and Willow weren't quite human. "Wasn't one world enough for her?" The unspoken question she wanted to add was, _what of Boromir_?

"The Queen isn't technically herself, niblet," Spike drawled from behind them. "She's possessed by an older warrior spirit of this place, seems he's got something invested in all of this. Slayer, Aragorn isn't really a coward."

Faith snorted, "Blondie, if I say Squirrel boy's a coward, he's a coward."

"Anyway, the Great Poofed One wishes to get going before we lose the trail. There's a blood trail - and it smells of hobbit."

"That's disgusting."

"No," he retorted with a fanged grin, "That's natural."

Faith rose to her feet, energized and worried. Hobbit blood…that meant either Frodo or Sam and she didn't want either of her friends to be harmed. "Let's go, kid, that path ain't getting any shorter with us sitting here."

Dawn groaned but followed them. What choice did she really have? She did not know where they were and she really had no intention of trying to find her way about on her own. "Spike, did Glory really send us here?"

"Yes - save Buffy, Fred, Wesley, Connor, and McDonald," he sneered on the name, having heard they were there from Oz. "They came after us on their own."

"The guy with the farm is here? What does he have to do with us?"

"Try firm - and he told Buffy where you were," he said.

"I know," she rolled her eyes. "Just trying to lighten things up a bit Jeeze, would it kill you to crack a smile?"

"I'm already dead, pet."

"It's just an expression, blondie bear."

Spike pulled up short and glared at the back of her head. "Niblet, if you ever call me that again, I'll…"

"What?" she challenged, looking back at him. "Come on, you'll what?"

A chilling smile crossed his face, "I'm a child of the Scourge of Europe himself. I'll think of something that has no backlash."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, running to catch up to the others.

777

Boromir found himself staring at the walls of Gondor longingly. Everything he had ever loved was inside - and he could not enter in just yet. It was not a matter of invitation. He, unlike other vampires, did not seem to need one.

Yet, contrarily, he could not enter _because_ he was a vampire, he was different now than he was before. Changed from the person he was before.

A light flashed in one of the rooms and he focused on it, recognizing Cordelia even from this distance. His eyes sharpened, studying her intently. Somehow, she seemed…worn down and ill. Though her color was good and she was as radiant as ever, it did not change the fact that something seemed to be very wrong with her health.

The possession was killing her. Even if the spirit was kind and generous, it was taking its toll on her.

"Yes, it is. Miss. Chase needs help - the true king must return and reclaim his throne soon." A laugh entered her voice, "Hello, Boromir, son of Gondor. I know you and have looked forward to this meeting for quite some time."

The wolf stared at her, awed for a moment by the elven beauty he had once seen before, on a mural, in one of the chambers of the royal house. Lúthien, immortal elven wife to Beren, a woman who had truly sacrificed her eternal life for mortal love. Transforming, he bowed, "It is I who am so honored, my Lady."

"Oh, you are a charmer," she laughed again before the merriness left her eyes. "Do you know why you have changed? Why it was allowed to happen when it could so easily have been stopped?"

"I had never considered that the change could have been halted through any means but death. Are you saying that this is…needless? That I should not be this way?"

"You hear well but you do not understand what you are hearing," she commented, coming closer. "This was not meant to happen but once it did, it set in motion a solution to a problem created when Beren took possession of Miss. Chase. There is a task appointed before you. She needs what you are now to survive, not only this possession - but the visions for they are becoming far stronger and more deadly. If you are not able to help her, she will die from them."

"Cordelia is one of the strongest women I know," Boromir protested. "I have benefited from her strength and courage of conviction, how can I then help her?"

"Strength comes in many forms, Boromir. She needs a different kind of strength, one more from the spirit. In your new form, you can share your strength, share your own peace of mind. What you have must be shared for only then will your own burden be lessened. Your new vitality will become her own. But if you truly do not wish to be with her, you must turn aside now. Once united, your souls will be forever intertwined. There will be no extrication from this union," she warned.

Boromir stared at her, pensively before his gaze went to her room. He could only stare numbly at it, thinking about this choice and what it would do to the both of them. But was there really any choice?

When he thought about his life outside the perpetual war he was involved in, he could see no other woman beside him but Cordelia. He knew that she wished for a ring from him - though they had never gone farther than a few kisses. There was no reason to actually demand a ring from him. He had never shown any interest in another woman - or man if it came down to it. Laugh at him though she had, he knew she was touched by his old fashioned behavior towards courting her. Not being a fool, he could admit that he had been courting her from the get go.

So, there was no real doubt in his mind anymore about where he wanted Cordy to be. Where he planned to spend the rest of his life if he was granted that privilege and right.

The question was, did she really feel the same about him? Or was this demand for a ring a joke, much as Buffy's threat to kill him had been? Thinking of Buffy, he winced. He was not neutered like Angel and Spike. She _**would**_ have to kill him for he was a danger. There was no escaping that - he was a vampire and it was her duty to kill him.

"Taste no human blood and a danger you shall not become," Lúthien said. "For it is only in truly waking the demon's taste for human flesh that the change will solidify. In killing and tasting the blood of your first victim, a true vampire you will become."

He rubbed his neck, tired of trying to figure this out. "I need to see her before I make a decision. This is only partly my choice, she must have a say as well for it is her life. I cannot and I will not take that choice away from her."

"But you could," she pointed out. "No one would blame you if you did."

"I would," he said, looking her in the eye. "I would more than anyone else."

"A man of honor indeed," Lúthien murmured.

Boromir sighed, "I must return. For though Cordelia's need is great, my place is at the side of my king, Aragorn. I swore to him my allegiance and my loyalty."

"Good journey to you," she wished him, watching as he cast one last, longing look at the window before departing.

654321

Buffy, Oz, and Xander entered Dale, leaving their horses inside the gates. The town looked as though a long siege had ended with neither side a definite victor. Houses were partially burned and clothes littered the ground, along with bodies in various states of decay. Peering out at them from the shadows, hungry and scared eyes warily watched them walk by, neither approaching or fleeing from them.

Stopping in front of a monument, Oz read the plaque. "This is to commemorate the fall of the dragon, Smaug, who was defeated by the arrow of King Bain, the first."

"Another king?" Buffy groaned. "Hasn't anyone here ever heard of democracy?"

"They have greater need of a king," Oz replied, straightening up. Stiffening, his eyes focused on the far gate, "Orcs approaching."

Buffy looked at Xander, noting his already drawn sword. "Can you use that?" she asked, remembering how his sword arm had been damaged in the last fight. As far as she knew, he had not practiced since then.

"Well, we'll see," Xander replied, though his grip was uncertain.

"Follow my lead," she said, adding, "Or his-though I would not get to close to him when he's like that." They watched as Oz disappeared beyond the wall.

With a shrug, he followed her into the fray. Fear tore though him, momentarily freezing him, remembrance of his captivity raced through him. Fear could only be conquered if he was willing to meet it head on. Taking a deep breath, he released those feelings into his fighting and slammed into his first orc.

"Ouch, that's gotta hurt," he joked, moving onto the next one as quickly as he could under the circumstances. It was not easy, fighting orcs was not the same as fighting the demons of Sunnydale or sparing in practice. Yet, he would not turn away from the battle for he knew that he had to do this.

As for Buffy, her simmering frustrations were exorcised. Her sorrow over Boromir, her confusion over how to forgive and deal with his change, and her sheer anger came out, focusing her with deadly intent. Like the sharpest blade, tried in a forge, she faced her foes and yielded not an inch.

The weary men and women, tired of the long battles and the never ending carnage that rocked their little town, watched them. Stunned, shamed, and finally, taking courage from these strangers and their willingness to fight a hopeless battle. Taking heart from them, taking hope and strength, they entered the battle with sharp cries of their own.

Oz was careful even as he invested fully in what was going on. Upon the air, he could feel the exact moment the tide turned in their favor. And it was in that moment that he melted away for he could not allow their possible allies to see him as the wolf. They would not understand.

When he rejoined them, he noticed the men gathering around Buffy and Xander, talking. "We do not have much but you are welcome to join us in a meal."

Buffy opened her mouth to decline but Xander's hand on her arm warmed her. "It would be an honor," he accepted. "Perhaps during this meal, you can show us a map of the area, tell us of your history. We are travelers from the West and know little of this land we have found ourselves moving through. We are interested to learn more for we…were sent out to write of this land. And we need to learn more of the dangers and wonders we will find as we continue on."

"Ah, then you need to see Bain, grandson of Granuil, our storyteller. He will tell you all that you wish to know. In exchange, you must share your own stories of travel."

"A fair bargain," Oz quietly agreed. The trio followed the men to where the others waited inside a ruined hall, staring uncertainly at the half walls around them. The meal placed before them was, indeed, meager and they felt as thought they were stealing food from the mouths of babes.

Yet, to refuse this meal would offend their hosts.

Bain entered and looked at them, curiosity in his tired, dirty face. His hair was prematurely gray for the weight of the years rested heavily upon him. Following the example of those there, Buffy, Xander, and Oz rose when he approached, bowing respectfully to him. "Thank you for your timely aid. In these troubled days, it is appreciated far more than you can imagine. I am humbled by your courageous deeds. Whatever I can do for you, please ask. If it is within my power, I shall arrange it for you."

Oz carefully and with much deliberation, for he realized that he could not just outright ask for what they needed, said, "We wish to know about these lands and what people we shall find in our journeys. It is on the behalf of the one prophesized to bring peace to these troubled lands that we travel like this. He has sent us forth, not to compel you to his side, but to ask what you wish of him."

"Of prophesized Kings, we have no need," Bain replied, almost world wearily. There had been too much promised over time and nothing had ever come from it. "But one who will fight the darkness, this we need. Yet, I do not think this alone is your purpose. Tell me, truthfully, what is it you need of me?"

"Information about the lands to the North of the Misty Mountains," Oz said, looking him in the eye. In this, he would not evade the truth. The man deserved to know the full extent of their situation. "A friend of ours, a very dear one, has been taken there by the Witch King."

Dead silence met his words, "I know that it is a lot to ask and I would not have done so if the need was not so great. If you cannot speak of this, would you direct us to someone who can?"

"I will do better than that. I shall take you there myself for you will need a guide through those troublesome lands," Bain decided, nodding his head. "When you speak of being from the West, you mean far more than the lands of the Shire, do you not?"

"Yes," Xander slowly told him. "But there is not much we can tell you."

"It is enough that you trust me this far," he nodded. "There is not much time for us to set out today. If not for the urgency I see in your eyes, I would say that we should wait. But I can see that you do not have the time to spare. Let us get some rest this night for the journey is long and we may not have many chances for resting and eating on the road. There is precious little food to be found in times of siege and warfare."

654321

Gandalf and Pippin rode swiftly over the land, little was said between them. Holding the hobbit in his arms, he could feel the shivering but was not entirely sure if it was caused by fear or longing for the _palantir_. Though grateful that Saruman had yielded it to them without a fight, without causing to much trouble with it as he could so easily have done, he was angry at him for letting them have such a poisonous thing.

If he had not, Gandalf would not have to worry over the youth's mind. The affect of the _palantir_ upon a ready mind was uncertain at best but to an open, innocent mind, the results could be catastrophic. For the first time since his return, he had no way of knowing how to proceed - he did not take the actions of the outsiders to be any of his real concern.

All of his knowledge was nothing in the face of this.

Guilt swamped him, an utterly foreign feeling for him in this new form. One he was not sure how to handle. If he had not insisted upon having Merry and Pippin journey with them, this would not have happened. He had _**known**_ from personal experience how curious, how inquisitive this particular hobbit was.

"Gandalf, I am sorry," Pippin's quiet and contrite voice broke into his thoughts. "I was just so worried about Boromir. I thought that ball would tell me what was wrong with him. I did not mean to turn Sauron's eye upon me like that."

The Istari sighed, "I know you meant no harm, young Pippin. But you must learn to _**think**_ before you do something."

Pippin was silent. He knew Gandalf was right but Boromir was a friend, a big brother to him, and he was hurt far more than anyone knew - or would admit to.

Shadowfax suddenly pulled up, shocking them out of their thoughts. Running towards them was a large wolf - larger than any Pippin had ever seen. He pressed further back into Gandalf's comforting warmth and waited tensely, unsure of the wizard's next act.

Both were unprepared when the wolf stopped and inclined his head as though greeting them.

They watched it pass, heading for Rohan. "Gandalf, should you not stop it?" Pippin hesitantly broke the silence.

Pulling thoughtfully on his chin, he shook his head. "This is something Aragorn must deal with for it is a result of his decision."

Pippin asked, "What do you mean?"

For the longest time, Pippin did not think he would not receive an answer. A long, resigned sigh escaped Gandalf, recognizing that Pippin had the right of an answer from him, "That, Pippin, was none other than Boromir."

"What?" Pippin's voice squeaked on the question he could not finish.

"Boromir was mortally wounded trying to protect you and Merry. Aragorn foolishly let his fear of losing his friend and Steward over rule his conscience. In a moment of blind panic, he blackmailed Angel into turning him into a vampire. Our world seems to have influenced the very nature of his vampire for he is not like Spike or Angel."

"But he acts like Boromir," he whispered, trying to make sense of what Gandalf was telling him.

Gandalf urged Shadowfax forward, "He still has his soul. There is a slight loophole because of the curse on Angel and Aragorn took advantage of it."

"He did not have that right," he angrily said, swiping away the tears on his face.

"No, he did not," a sweet, low voice spoke to them. Gandalf pulled them to a stop once more. "But you do not have the right to judge Aragorn for his actions - nor do you, Gandalf, mighty though you are. There are things behind this that the Valar have a hand in. The man of Gondor's task is not yet done."

"Lady Lúthien," Gandalf breathed. "What is this you speak of?"

"It is none of your concern unless Boromir chooses to ask for your help. Your task is the one that awaits you in Gondor, not continual worry over things that are not in your hands. Boromir is under my guidance and protection. I will direct his path as far as he will let me. But in the end, the decision is his to make, without pressure from us and those he loves," her voice was firm. "Go your way, Gandalf, and take the young hobbit to safety and to his task."

Shadowfax leaped into action, for once ignoring any commands Gandalf may have uttered, if he had been so inclined. But the Istari was lost in thought. Pippin clung desperately to the arm holding him steady, mind awhirl with all the revelations of the day. Who was that beautiful and fair woman? And of what position did she have that she could order Gandalf about?

What was really going on with Boromir?

But these thoughts disappeared as he recalled the words she had directed towards him. What was this task she spoke of him that he was to do? He was no knight or mighty warrior, what could he do when he messed everything up? Not only was he small in stature, he was clumsy and too curious by far, he could get in trouble in an empty room.

Dourly he wondered if he would be asked to join the enemy army. If anyone could mess them up, it would be him. In all likelihood, he would destroy Sauron's entire forces that way.

654321

Sam, Frodo, and Gollum paused, awed by the sight of the blaze shadowed by darkness that dominated the landscape. Nervously fingering the Ring, Frodo expelled a breath. Looking away, he focused on the path before him, the weight about his neck strangling him. "Help me, Sam," he whispered, unable to move.

"Master?" he asked, confused.

"Help me remember why," he replied, voice still quiet in amidst the roaring sound of the fires of Mount Doom. "Tell me why I am dong this. Why are we here? Remind me what is at stake if I falter. Because I can no longer see my task."

Sam did not know what to say for he did not understand what Frodo was asking him for. "You are doing this because only you can, Master Frodo," he tried. "Because you love Master Bilbo and he cannot."

"But why?" he pleaded, stumbling on the rocky path before him. "Why are you with me even now as we journey into this dark and foreboding land? Why do you stay with me after all I have said, all I have done to you?"

"Where else would I be but at your side, Master Frodo?" he asked simply. "You are my friend and I love you. I would never leave you to face this task alone."

Frodo stared at him, weighing his honesty and his sincerity. "Does the Ring not tempt you?"

Sam's head shook, "I would be an unfaithful friend if I lied and said that I am immune to It. But It does not tempt me enough to surpass my love of green, growing things. I want to see these," he pulled out one of the white seeds the Lady had given him, "Planted so that our friends back home may enjoy their beauty. The Ring cannot give me that."

Frodo reached out and touched it reverently before sighing, "I do not have anything like this."

"You have me, Master Frodo. I will carry you if that is what you need of me," Sam offered freely. "But if you need a reason that you can see and feel, look at Gollum - at Sméagol. Do it for him, to free him from the curse of the Ring. Do it for yourself, to live with out fear of this place and the evil that lives in the Ring."

The two started up the mountain, following the rapidly disappearing Gollum. They steadily climbed, finding their own path. "Thanks, Sam," he finally said. He still did not feel comfortable with his task as it continued to grow heavier upon him but somehow, knowing that his friend was there, his task became easier to bear.

"For what?" he asked, puzzled.

"Being here," was the sincere reply.


	26. Not Bad For Final Words

Sauron could feel It in the back of his mind - his Ring's presence. It was somewhere nearby, though his eye could not see I. He could _feel_ the way It yielded to that…that halfling's plans for It. It annoyed the Dark Lord but he knew that even with his Ring back, he would never regain his full strength. Even though that was what his enemies thought, none of them realized that parts of him had been seeping out of It over the eons.

It was no longer complete and whole. A flaw in his plan that he had not been expecting and did not know how to fix. One that he did not have to accept or maneuver around for there was another path, a better path, towards his goal.

The girl gave him a new lease on life and he, unlike her, would _**not**_ need another to balance him out. Being of a higher race than even an elf or the Istari had its own rewards. Letting go of the Ring at last – for he no longer needed or wanted it - he poured every ounce of himself into the s_idhe_.

Green eyes snapped open and became blacker than pitch, she rose from the bed, energy flowing through her veins again. With a hand wave, he transformed the white nightgown into something far more suitable for his task. In a voice both higher than he was used to but lower than her normal, human one, Sauron called out, "Angmar, let us return to Mordor."

Angmar snapped to attention, knowing that voice and presence. His Master truly was back with them. In his dead heart, he felt elated and that his devotion was justified. "By your command," he bowed and kissed the hem of the dress Sauron wore, "I reaffirm my allegiance to you, mighty Lord Sauron."

A smirk crossed her face as Sauron, using his knowledge and her power, healed her blindness. Once sight was restored-though there was still a slight film that could not be fully eradicated, Sauron's head inclined, "It is well done, my most faithful. You are not the only one who has need of such a renewal of loyalty. Let us return."

654321

Tara quietly entered the library, looking for anything that would help her out. She needed to know where she was and what was going on. While strong in some ways, this world confused her magic enough that she could not accurately read the leaves and water signs. It seemed that here all of the normal laws of magic did not apply.

"Tara Maclay, I never thought to see Glory's own lapdog here among the do gooders," a voice drawled from the chair in front of the fireplace. She could hear the sound of a book shutting and being placed to the side and a familiar face turned to look at her. The firelight glistened off of his dark hair, shadowing his face even more than normal.

Her eyes widened in horrified fright. Of all the people to run into in this new world, how did she manage to find Lindsey McDonald? "I could say the same for you," she stammered, glancing about quickly to see if anyone else was there. She cursed herself for not checking from the doorway.

"Self-preservation has its own drawbacks," he carelessly shrugged, "As you can see for yourself."

"What do you mean?" she asked, shutting the door behind her. The last thing she needed was to be discovered by the others before she found anything of value. Her mistress would not be pleased with her if that happened. Having seen Glory's displeasure once, she did not relish having it directed towards her.

"What do you think I mean?" he retorted, looking at her as though it should be obvious.

"If I knew what you meant, I would not have asked," she said, wishing she had the courage to demand an answer from him. She was in no mood for his games. Now that he had seen her, had identified her, her time here was very short.

Lindsey rose and stared down at her, a sharp bark of laughter escaping him. "She's here, is she not?" he softly asked. "Do you know how stupid her action is? Did either of you do any research before you leapt into the portal? You have killed her by bringing her here - because I doubt this was her idea alone. This has all the earmarks of a mind that has never learned about alien worlds."

Tara paled as each world left his mouth. "You…you are lying," she weakly denied, even as she could feel the truth he spoke. She'd killed her protector. The only one who saw her need, who was willing to help her out, and she'd killed her in her rush to help Glory regain what was stolen from her. In her haste to grant her peace of mind - and, she was honest enough to admit, get the power from Willow - she had not even bothered to check the history of the place they were going to.

How could she have been so thoughtlessly stupid?

"What would the point be in lying to you, Ms. Maclay? I have no reason to mislead you. As I know your true history, so you do mine. Travel through dimensions is one of the first lessons learned at Wolfram and Hart," he smoothly said. "How does it feel to know you've killed your lover of the past year?"

Gasping pants of breath came from a strangled throat, she could not seem to focus on anything at all. Lashing out at him wildly, she vaguely heard the sound of several bones snapping and cracking. Blinking back the haze of tears, she saw him near the fireplace, obviously injured. Perhaps even…dead. _Oh, goddess, have I killed him then_?

Panicked, she tore out of the room and down the steps of the Golden Hall, no real destination in mind as she fled through the nearly empty streets. Someone shouted but she ran on, ignoring the voices.

Giles entered the library mere moments after she fled, looking around. Shocked by the sight that met his eyes, he quickly knelt down and began to check for vital signs, finding them very weak. "Someone get a healer in here! What happened to you?" he asked, turning back to the wounded lawyer. His voice now softened, trying to ease Lindsey's mind.

"Tara - she works for Glory," Lindsey answered, partly out of spite. He _knew_ he was dying, the blasted witch killed him. But there was also relief for in dying here, he was far from Wolfram and Hart's reach. They could _not_ force him to serve them after death. In this world, they had no hold over him.

Even if Sauron was victorious, they could not touch him.

It was a liberating thought for he had spent so long trying to escape their reach and because they had helped Glory, they had given him his freedom from them. He found it deliciously ironic. "Follow her and…you will…find Glory or at least…the mortal form she has when…she does not have…enough energy to remain…in her natural shape. They should be…able to lead you home."

Giles could hear footsteps retreating, heard the orders being shouted. He knew they were going after Tara and, by extension, Glory. "Why are you telling me this now?" he asked, though it was obvious. Not stranger to death, he could see death slowly eking Lindsey's life. For what it was worth, the man wanted both revenge and a form of redemption in their eyes. So, he would not waste breath telling him to be silent.

"I am dying…as you know…full well. You need…to know the…truth," he coughed, feeling his rib scrape against his lung. A grimace twisted his face, "There is no way…Glory can survive here, unless…she goes into Mordor. And even then…I doubt she would…live. Sauron jealously guards…his power. If Ben - you heard…me correctly - Ben…stays here…and dies, so will she. She is…tied to him…utterly…for he is mortal. Sauron cannot know this. He _would_ siphon her power…in this…mortal form…as he has done to…Willow, making him…even stronger."

Mind racing under the influx of his words, Giles quickly stored the knowledge away for future use. "Keeping him out of Mordor may be easier said than done since all paths seem to lead there," he softly observed.

"Then kill him - it _**is**_ your only real hope."

The answer was cold and typical of Lindsey's pragmatic view. Giles flinched anyway, though he heard the truth in the spoken words. If Glory was to be stopped, it had to be here, in a place she could not regain control and fight back. "Thank you," he said, voice devoid of mockery. "No matter your reasons, you did not have to do this."

Lindsey scoffed, "Of _course_ I did. I am an arrogant man and love to rub it in people's faces that I know things they do not. If it helped you in any way, well, I can hardly be blamed for it, can I?"

_As final words went, those were not bad. Not bad at all_, Lindsey idly thought, closing his eyes for the last time.

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Dawn clutched her lower body, biting her lip in utter frustration. Her steps quickened, trying to work through the cramps that had been bothering her since the early afternoon. Of all the times to start, why had her uncertain cycle chosen now?

"What is wrong with her?" Faith asked, watching her in amused concern.

"Pain, slayer," Spike answered.

"What?" she snapped. Striding forward, she pulled her to a stop, "Dawn, you idiot girl! Why didn't you tell us you were injured?"

"Not that kind of pain," he smirked, not even trying to draw their attention away from Dawn's discomfort. It would do them no good and really, the girl should have thought to talk to the Slayer about this before. "Her pain – like most mortal women - comes every month."

Understanding slowly dawned in her dark eyes as Dawn stared back at them, embarrassed to have it so bluntly revealed. "Now I really wish she had stranded us in a civilized place," Faith angrily said. "What are we supposed to do? I do not have anything she can use."

"Yeah, I know, what is up with that?" Dawn muttered, "Is it some special power of the slayer?"

"Blood is a strong attractant to vampires," she succinctly informed her. "You figure it out."

"Here," Angel handed Dawn some pieces of fabric. "This was the reason I kept the wrappings for the _lembas_ bread. I figured something like this may happen."

Her nose curled up but she gracefully accepted them, knowing they were better than nothing. Still it was rather…weird, "Should I shake them out?"

"Those are just the outer covers, the ones wrapped around the food are still in my pack. And they are clean," he added.

"Thanks," she said, trying to be truly grateful for this thoughtful gesture.

Dawn disappeared and they waited, Faith with her pipe. Tensing up suddenly, her foot tapped lightly against the ground, feeling that something was off. "Something is not right with Buffy and I do not just mean the Boromir thing. I mean, something is _really_ wrong."

Angel laughed suddenly, though it very quiet, almost restrained. Spike looked at him, recognizing something in the faint laugh. His head shook in denial, not wanting his gut feeling to be right. It just could not be. The only way…"Oh, bloody 'ell," he let out.

"Exactly, Spike, my boy," Angel drawled, seeing no reason to even try to pretend now that his child knew the truth. Spike certainly couldn't keep it a secret - he had already proven himself to be a traitor. There was no chance that Angelus would trust him again. He was back, though he wasn't sure he wanted to bow down to some pretentious Dark Lord out of gratitude for his freedom. "I don't suppose I should waste my breath in asking if you missed me.

He paused, pretending to think about that, "Oh, wait, I don't have any breath to waste. Did you miss me, traitorous child?"

"Can't say that I did," Spike replied, keeping a wary eye on his sire - and the other out for Dawn. If he could warn her before she showed up, she might be able to flee to safety. Might being the key word and only if they could keep him focused on them, not on her.

"Spike, you wound me," Angelus commented. "Drop it, Slayer, I have no intention of dying at your hand, you miserable wretch. If I go, it will be by a slayer with more strength and class than you.

"Although," he continued, tightening his grip on her wrist, forcing her down to her knees. The stake dropped to the ground, silently for all that it sounded much louder in their ears, "This might work out better for me. I never was one for free will. You know, I could completely incapacitate you and keep you around. You could be helpful if we ever meet up with your friends. Grab the Key and let's go, William. I think we have a bargaining chip to use when we reach our destination.

"And William, do not think I have forgotten how you betrayed me when you had the audacity to align yourself with the slayer. I am surprised Drusilla let you live when you exhibited such cowardly, very human behavior," he taunted. "It's no wonder she turns to me so easily, your own injury was not a reason. She was aching for a real demon to show her a good time."

His hand clenched uselessly at his side, "Dru, unlike you, saw the value of sparing the world from your insanity when she had others to toy with. She realized that she would have lost any toys if you had succeeded."

"Yes, yes," he yawned, "And yet, she still left you for a slimy, horned chaos demon - a _**chaos**_ demon, Spike. She prefers a mangy creature over you."

_**Whack!**_

"You can't talk to Spike like that!" Dawn shouted at him, a very large rock in her hands. Though she was shaking terribly, she held the stone steadily. "Jerk," she said, whacking him once again while he was still stunned, knocking him out cold.

Faith and Spike quickly took his pack and gear from him. They were sure to also take his Lothlórien cloak for Dawn to wear. "Let's go," Faith semi-ordered, shaken by what had happened. "We have to get to Sam and Frodo. Angelus being free means only one thing to us, Sauron has taken complete control over Willow. He knows about the Ring, about our friends carrying It through his land."

The two women took off, "Spike?" Dawn called back, noting that he wasn't with them. They paused, turning to face him.

"Just making sure we have what we need, then I will tie him up. Can't have him following us - or the orcs releasing him to come after us," he replied, riffling through his pockets. It was almost scary how cold and efficient he was, though both women knew that it had to be hurting him to do this. Vampire or not, get along with Angel or be his antagonist, the two vampires had meant the world to each other at one point in their unlives.

"Don't take to long," Faith warned, almost positive she knew what he was going to do. And while she knew she should object, she couldn't find it in her to do so.

"Not going to be a problem," Spike said. His search didn't take long. "Willow won't forgive me easily but we can't risk you making another appearance, especially under these circumstances," he found himself explaining. "But I love you, sire. So I'm setting you free from the cage that will trap you again if we can find someone who would have the power to do it again."

Pulling off the ring that protected him from harm – and taking the Claddagh ring - he closed his eyes momentarily, readying himself for this. Grasping his sword, he cut off Angel's head. One lone tear fell into the ashes before he rose and caught up with them, almost ready to take command but he stopped, letting Faith remain their de facto captain. She, at least, had some plan in mind.

A suicidal, walk straight into the hands of the biggest bad they have ever faced - but it was a plan.

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Frodo stood on the edge, looking down into the flames, the lava of Mount Doom, the place they had come so far to reach. After so long, they had reached the end of their journey. The Ring dangled on the chain that he held between his fingers. For the first time, It was truly silenced. There was no siren call to him - or to Sméagol.

"Sam?" he called out.

"Sam!" his voice broke, almost panicked when he received no reply.

"I am right here, Master Frodo," he answered, moving to stand right beside him. "I have not left your side. I told you I would not."

"The Ring is quiet," Frodo told him, looking at him. "Not quiet like when It was trapped but quiet, as though It is nothing more than a regular ring. I cannot hear It like before and that scares me, Sam. It feels almost dead."

"Dead, sir?" he repeated, puzzled by this statement. "Could that be why Sméagol is not as…crazy as before?"

"I do not know," Frodo replied with a sigh, turning back to the Ring. "But I do not think that this silence is a good. Not good at all, I fear that something is terribly wrong." Taking a deep breathe, as though to swallow his feelings, he bunched up the chain and the Ring. Tossing it as hard as he could into the red lava below, he and Sam watched and waited, hoping for some definite sign that they had succeeded in their quest.

It eventually sank into the lake, disappearing from sight. Turning away at last, they watched Gollum's every move. If anyone would reveal the Ring's true destruction, it would be him. Having had possession of the Ring for the longest time, it had the most hold over him. Though he twitched, there was no indication that anything had changed for him during the hour they waited, studying him.

Sam shivered, not liking this one bit. "Master Frodo, we should go."

"I think you are right, Sam." The two made their way down the ledge, taking care not to stumble on the loose rocks. "Come on, Sméagol," he called out, walking past him.

A sinister laugh greeted their ears as they emerged into the brighter light beyond the cavern. "So, Gandalf sought to mislead my Master, forcing him to focus his attention on Gondor, tricking him into keeping an eye on the other hobbit. What a pity to disappoint him-but now we have something to bargain with. Take them and bind them," a surprisingly educated, though gruff and angry sounding, voice ordered his forces, "But gently. We cannot present damaged goods to our Master."

Frodo, Sam, and Gollum were bound and taken down the mountain, carried by the orcs over the more dangerous sections. Their overlord followed, watching them move carefully. Once on steady ground, their ties were loosened enough for them to walk. Exchanging glances, they realized with a sickening feeling of utter dread what had happened. Sauron had done what they all feared.

Middle-Earth's greatest battle was about to begin – one neither hobbit was sure they could win.

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Buffy tossed restlessly on the thin mat on floor where she was sleeping, a scream escaped her lips as she forced her eyes open. Tearing out the door, she ran to the edge of Lake Town, eyes turned skyward, desperately seeking something she did not wish to see. Flying high in the sky, easily sitting on a dragon with a dark robed being behind her, was Willow.

Her hair looked like dried blood in the bright moonlight. Buffy shivered and it had nothing to do with the chill in the night air. "He's got her," Oz said, coming up behind her. His voice was oddly resigned, as though he had figured this would be the only outcome to the kidnapping.

"Then we have no other choice," Buffy grimly said, "We are Mordor bound."

"Should I wake Xander?"

Buffy waffled for a moment, knowing that Xander was not up to the trip. But if they left him behind, he never forgive them. Plus, they were better friends. Nay, they were closer friends, than Buffy and Willow were. If anyone could reach her, even a small part of her, it _would_ be Xander.

"Let's go," Xander's tired voice said, "On the demon beast, she has a head start. We will have to push hard in order to catch up to her."

"Wait," Bain called out, "What of our journey?"

"I am afraid it is no longer possible for a greater danger than ravening orcs and wild men has been unleashed. We must head to Gondor," Xander said as he gave her a warning look, continuing, "To warn our army and King of this danger."

"Then take my boat, it will cut your trip down to a few days," Bain offered. His upraised hand forestalled any objects, "Please, it is the least we can do."

"We shall bring it back to you," Oz promised, knowing that the boats in Lake Town were an important part of their economy. "How do we get to Gondor without stopping in Mirkwood?"

Quickly giving instructions, he stood back and watched the trio get in the boat before climbing in himself. There was something about the way they looked around that made him stifle a laugh. It felt good to laugh after the last few months. "I not only wish to meet this King of yours but I desire to make your journey as swift as possible. There are shortcuts that I know of whose landmarks I would be able to spot faster than you. Also, I can tell that you are not able boat men. Banwyck and I will not steer you wrong."

"Again, we thank you," Oz said. The man on the dock pushed them off and they watched him follow along, guiding the boat into deeper waters. Climbing in, he confidently paddled the boat through the current, feeling the changes in a way they knew they would have had trouble even attempting.

"Why are you going to such lengths to help us when your people need you?" Buffy asked half-way through the first day. The scenery flew by faster than it had when they rode and while she was grateful to realize that it meant they were covering more ground, she wished they could go even faster.

Bain was silent for a time before turning to face her, "Because I believe that helping you is the best way to help my people. Even now, they should be on their way to the Golden Hall to seek sanctuary with Théoden King's people. Even if he is not there, they will have asylum."

She nodded and he turned around, making a slight correction to their course. His reasons were sound and were correct, even if it was slightly weird how easily he read the situation and their role in it. Though she still was not sure about accepting what little they had, she also could not refuse the help - and it irked her. She felt like a thief taking from those who most needed it.

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Éomer sat beside Éowyn, staring at the White City before them, awed by the amount of orcs gathered about it. "How did they manage to hold them off for so long?" he asked.

"Thick walls and a well trained army," Boromir answered, looking anxiously towards the river that ran through the wastes. Though he has wished to be with Aragorn, he knew his darker nature would only upset the balance and tip things into a precarious place. Plus, Aragorn would lean on him too much and he needed to do this himself.

Only he could do this and claim his place as king, "How are you doing?"

"I was all right until I saw them," Éowyn replied, voice pitched as low as she could naturally and comfortably do so. Though her Uncle still disapproved, there was not much he could do about it. They needed her to do what only she could.

"You will be fine," Boromir assured her. "There would be no reason to bring you if you were not the right one for this task. The Valar do not make mistakes."

"It is not the orcs that I am worried about. It is facing that," she pointed to the robed beings circling the sky. "I worry about them. Not for myself but for Merry, he is stalwart and true but I do not wish harm to him."

"And he has yet to see any sign of Pippin," Éomer commented. "His worry over his young cousin might lead to a disastrous mistake in a moment of peril."

"I think you are both underestimating Merry," he replied with a slight smile. "It is not merely my affections for him that leads me to say this either. I have seen the both of them under extreme circumstances. They are not only resilient but courageous and strong. I would not worry over them."

The shrieking cry below them stopped the conversation cold. A huge beast landed among the armies and a sword went up. When it dropped, the cries of the army was deafening, absolutely deafening. In clearly coordinated and defined groups, they attacked the gates and hammered at the walls, trying to breach them.

Boromir gasped as if in pain as his beloved city was besieged, torn into, _desecrated and raped_, before his very eyes. He might very well have been feeling the city's pain inside his heart and soul. His heart tightened but, until Théoden King, gave the command, he could not attack. As the stand in for his King, he _needed_ to stand with their allies and show faith in their alliance.

He just hoped that the word would come soon.

As they watched, the leader of the Nazgûl rose up and flew over the walls. His fellows followed him, taunting those in the city below with their presence. With attacks against their spirits that they could not repel.

A flash of white lit up the area and Gandalf appeared on the wall. By his side was a woman in full armor and a young Pippin, dressed as a Gondorian soldier. They both stood with the Istari and encouraged those on the wall to hold their ground, staring defiantly up at the Nazgûl.

"I need to get down there to drive them away. What I need is a distraction, something large enough that they will be distracted until I can break away."

Pippin had disappeared as Gandalf spoke. "Lord Denethor!" he breathlessly called out. "With your great knowledge of things in Mordor, is there anything we can do to bring the attention of the Nazgûls away from the army? If you ever meant what you said about seeking to help your people, now is the time to prove your words and show forth your loyalty."

Denethor tore his gaze away from his son's pale, lax one and stared at the hobbit, barely able to understand him and his words. When they penetrated, a clear light came into his eyes. For the first time, he was cognizant of more than just Faramir's failing condition. "Fire," he finally announced, voice hoarse from disuse. "Fire will drive them back for they cannot abide the heat. I will help you."

One last look at Faramir was all he spared for he knew that driving the Nazgûl back would help him far more than sitting here, worrying over him. "Come with me," he ordered, pointing to some of the guards. "Bring as many torches as you can carry with you. We will set up a fire line to constantly move them along, never allowing the flame to rest in one place. I want those demons of hell gone."

Blazing torches were hurled with almost deadly accuracy at the beats and their riders, startling them and causing confusion among them for though the animals were bred for evil, they were still animals, reacting to the danger that fire posed to them. Gandalf disappeared below and, with Shadowfax to aid him, rode along the wall, aiming at Angmar.

Though he was struck, Angmar only laughed. But he ably met the challenge Gandalf had given him. His men backed off, commanding the orcs in their lines. Once assured of his men, he turned and focused on the Istari. He knew what the old fool did not. This was merely the beginning.

They would all soon know what he had known from the moment he saw the radiance of his Master once again. Sauron's time was at hand. Victory was theirs.

Gandalf's light showed clear and bright even in the daylight and those on the wall received hope and courage from its warmth. Bathed in glory, they renewed their efforts to hold back the wild horde, to ignore the terrible cry of the Nazgûl and the images of defeat they brought to mind.

Théoden watched until he could stand it no longer. "Ride, warriors of Rohan," he called out, clanging his sword against theirs, tension mounting to an unbelievable level. "_**Ride to honor! Ride to victory! Ride to ruin! Ride to death**_!"

Charging forward, they entered the mad fray, intent on cutting down as many forces as they could before they themselves were slain. Intent on driving them away from the newly finished walls and gates that guarded the seven tiered city. They would push them onto the open plains, wreaking as much havoc among them as they could, teaching them what the art of death was really about.

Denethor watched, awed at the sight. "I did not think they would come when we have so often refused to aid them. What trickery is this?"

"None," Cordelia calmly said, scanning the forces below. "They have come in good faith and good speed. Guard…Oh," she stopped, feeling lightheaded and woozy.

The Steward sharply looked at her, stricken by her pallor. In all the time he had seen her, the woman had never looked any way but composed and in total control of herself. Now, she was drawn and pale. Her breath came in harsh pants and gasps through pale lips. She shook terribly as if chilled through to the bone though it was hot upon the wall and she was fully armored.

"Sir Pippin," he called out, voice calm and quiet. "Escort the King indoors. Men, guard their flanks. Do not let any enemy near the unprotected."

His voice rang out, strong and clear with every sentence. For a moment, he could not believe that it was his own. Retaining control over the men, he strode along the wall once the two had disappeared. Encouragement and orders flew from his lips easily. His people responded with continual energy and drive. He felt like Boromir must have after every victory against the enemy.

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Every where she turned, there was chaos and blood, noise and pain. Merry clung tightly to her waist even as he valiantly fought. The stench of death hung in the air, filling her nostrils in uncomfortable waves, choking her. And then, she heard it - the familiar sound of her uncle, shouting defiance at the Nazgûl king.

Pushing through, she and Merry broke in just as the death blow was rendered. Their joint scream of denial was swallowed up as he fell. As quickly as she could, she forced the unwilling Brego to move towards them until they were between her King and Angmar. Though frightened by him, her anger drowned it for she realized what the Nazgûl intended. "Never," she hissed, voice low and vicious.

"Stand aside," Angmar ordered, bored by this show of foolish bravery. "For I have matters to finish with this old fool."

"Your business with my King is at an end, foul fiend. I shall not let you devour his soul as is your wont," she retorted.

"So eager to join him death?" he asked. Nay, taunted her. "Loyal to follow him to the realm of shadows, never to see glory?"

"There will be no shadows for me or my King for today you shall die. We will be rid of you and your kind at last," Éowyn replied, shield held comfortably and sword angled forward. Though each was lightly clasped, not yet ready to fight, her intentions were quite clear.

Angmar laughed.

It chilled even his followers as every eye turned their way. They became the center of attention of those standing close enough to hear them. "Foolish child, know ye not that no man my kill me? Not even he who wields the sword reforged," he laughed again.

Unnoticed in the distance, ships were slowly coming round the bend. Ships that's black sails billowed in the breeze, silent and eerie.

"Know ye not that I am no man - ye look upon a woman," her hand pulled off her helmet. Gold hair spilled free, shinning brightly in the sunlight. Replacing it, she challenged him, "If this does not cause your immortal dark heart to flee before me, what need have we of further words? Are we to fight or are you afraid of me?"

Angmar pushed aside his doubts and his fears. Fears that had been growing as their contest of wills continued. Seeing her thus revealed, he could not believe it. A woman, on the field of battle, after all this time? His will hardened, became unshakable. This wretch may be a woman but he had no reason to fear her.

Others, far braver and more able than she had fallen to his blade. For the chance to drag her soul under, he could hardly wait. He charged, watching as she did the same, meeting his blows with her own.

"Hang tight, Merry," she whispered, tightening her hold just a bit. She felt him nod and squeezed reassuringly. "You will be fine."

The armies watched as blows were struck and mounts were slain. Angmar gave a fierce cry of pain as Merry's blade struck home. The hobbit was flung to the ground near the walls. The two stood, alone now, facing each other, circling and striking blows, judging the status of the other's heath and strength. A gasp went up as the woman went down, the resounding snap of her arm carrying over the silence.

"Now, it ends," he crowed in triumph, glad to be rid of this irritating pest, challenging though she had been.

"For you," she snarled. Unsteady though she was, she found the strength and energy to roll to the side. To rise to her knees, Théoden's sword clenched in her hands for her own had shattered under the fell beast. With energy rapidly flagging, she mustered it all into one fatal thrust between crown and shoulders.

The husk fell at her feet, crown rolling to the side. His great mace, now nothing more than a quickly fading weapon, dropped to her left, forgotten.

Forcing herself to rise to her feet, she cried out. Voice piercing the din, she rallied her people, "The cursed King is dead and soon, you shall all perish! Rohirrim warriors, do your duty to your fallen King! Avenge him!"

Merry crawled to Théoden King, amazed when he opened his eyes. There was little talk between them but it was enough to soothe the hobbit. Théoden smiled, recognizing him, breathing his last. "How is he?" she asked, joining him after a moment. "Were his final moments ones of peace?"

"Yes," he slowly replied, looking up at her. To his eyes, she seemed different, less guarded and bitter somehow. It was as if, in fighting the Nazgûl King, she had fought the shadow within herself-and won.

"It is well done, Sir Meriadoc," she said. "If I might trouble you for help further, I need to get inside the walls for my arm is unwell. And I can no longer work death for the swords are gone."

"It is no trouble to aid for you have slain that foul beast."

"_**We**_ have slain him, my friend. I could not have done it alone." Together, they made their way slowly towards safety, stopping when they heard panicked cries. To their weary amazement, the forces were beset on all sides for Aragorn had come as promised with the oath breakers. They slid against the wall, letting it support them, unable to go any further.

It was quiet when Théoden was found by Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. They stood, heads bowed in respect - until Legolas let out an undignified gasp of shock. He picked up a familiar hilt, one they recognized from Lothlórien, "Merry's here."

"Was he not ordered to remain in Rohan?"

"I would imagine that his loyal heart brought him into battle," Gimli said quietly. "It would be too much for him to bear to be left behind after all that he has done. The questions to be asked now are where is he? And is he well?"

"I see him - and the Lady Éowyn," Legolas nodded towards the wall, "They are over there."

Aragorn hardly heard the rest, he was already striding towards them, angrily concerned. "What were you thinking? Are you so foolish that you would throw away your life so needlessly? Do you not realize that your people need you?"

If she was surprised by the strength - the ferocity - of his reproach, her tired face did not disclose it. The creeping sensation of the King's power deadened her to much of it. "I merely did what I was born to do for the prophecy of the White Lady is that she would destroy the Nazgûl King and thus destroy his power over the dead. If you would be so kind as to dress my wounds, I must return to Edoras for, as you have pointed out, I am needed for Uncle never reinstated Éomer as heir. The burden of the throne falls upon me until I can do so. As that is the case, there is much to be done to provide my brother with his kingdom restored."

He stared down at her dignified face, covered in the grime and sweat of battle and was shamed. For who really knew what this woman had endured while trapped at home with a viper who poisoned her mind and heart. Killing her hopes and dreams slowly with his words and deeds against her family and lands? Théoden's wounds were apparent for all to see, hers were not so clear.

Éowyn had merely down what she had to do in order to live with herself again. To be able to look at herself in the eye once more, she had responded as a woman raised as a Shield Maid would have done. The battlefield was a place she had always been taught would heal and bring glory to a warrior. She had gone to battle and reclaimed her soul from Wormtongue's vile touch.

"Come on, my lady," Aragorn gruffly said, helping her to her feet. "You need food, rest, and medical attention. As do you, Merry, for the both of you have been touched by the Nazgûl's poison that is not easily attended." Arm about her waist to keep her on her feet, they slowly stumbled to the camp where a make shift medical ward was set up.

Éomer saw them. His relief was apparent as he ran over and embraced her, "When you disappeared, I thought that I had lost you."

"You cannot be rid of me so easily," she replied, clinging to him. The warmth of his embrace chased off some of the clinging chill inside. Though her injured arm was between them, she did not mind the pain for it kept her conscious, kept her from the grip of the Nazgûl's lingering touch. She knew that Aragorn would be able to chase away the rest with his healing skills.

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Ben followed the others out onto the silent battlefield, trying hard _not_ to look at the dead. It pained his heart, this work of death, though he knew it was necessary. In order for them to defeat their enemies, there would be fighting. There would be many to fall by the sword-or arrow as one wound attested.

Pushing these thoughts aside, he searched for the still living whose wounds could still be repaired. And to offer solace to those who were beyond his abilities. He had learned much about herbal remedies in the short time he'd been there and was rather amazed at how affective they were.

The sun had risen, slightly piercing the heavy clouds that covered the land. Ben looked up from his work and saw Denethor steadily making his way towards the camp of the Rohirrim. Curious, he asked the healer beside him, "What is he going there?"

"It is none of our concern," she replied, stanching the blood flow. Beside her, a pile of wicked looking arrows resided, attesting to the true state of where they were. "If we are to know, they tell us. Focus your attention on the here and now, we have lives to save and souls to comfort."

Feeling chastised, Ben went back to work. Still, he couldn't help wondering what was going on. The last time he'd seen him, the man couldn't be pried from his son - though he had heard that he'd gone to the wall to help. Though Faramir was healing, something impeding his progress towards consciousness - and full health.

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Denethor walked into the camp, head held high as he moved through it. Here, as inside the walls of Gondor, were the injured and the sick, though they seemed to be fairing better than his own people. It was this sight that kept his mind bent of this self appointed task, for surely this revealed the work of a King's hands.

"The hands of the King are healer's hands," he murmured hopefully. Even though his errand was urgent, he stopped occasionally to answer those who called him, those men he knew.

"Father?" Boromir's shocked voice carried cleanly over the cacophony. As he walked towards him, he was completely stunned by how different, how changed his father seemed to be. He looked far less burdened than before. His rich clothes were gone, replaced with far simpler, more practical clothes. "What are you doing here?"

"The Heir of Isildur," he softly replied, struck by Boromir's own appearance. "There is something I must beg him for. And it is not just forgiveness for being an unjust and lazy steward."

"There is no need to ask forgiveness for I have not been faithful myself. And you need not beg me for anything. If it is within my power to do so, I shall help you," a weary voice off to the left said. Aragorn hid a yawn as he looked at the man who was the father of his friend. "What can I do to help you, Lord Denethor?"

"You are not how I pictured you," he said, taking a moment to absorb the generosity of this man in forgiving his behavior which almost lost them their fair city.

"I find that I am not how many have pictured me to be," Aragorn matter-of-factly said. His smile was wry, thinking over all the things he had heard said about him – by both the Scoobies and those who knew him. "Even I have trouble seeing who I truly am. In all honesty, I did not think you would wish to see me." He had trouble reconciling this man with the man he had met so many years ago. While Denethor still seemed weighted down, there was an honesty to his expression that had been missing in the past. Aragorn was happy to see it.

"At one time, that was true for I thought you were nothing more than a usurper. I did not think a king necessary for we had been doing all right without one. Through my young friend Peregrin, I have found that an ungenerous untruth. My son Faramir has been grievously wounded by a Nazgûl. If it is true that you can heal him, will you come with me and do so?" Denethor did not mean to be abrupt in changing the subject but merely mentioning Pippin brought his errand to the forefront of his mind.

Boromir started, hearing of Faramir's words. It was so like what he had feared happening back in Lothlórien. Now, his heart ached for his brother and he wished that it had been he who was lying in the House of Healing, not Faramir.

"Take me to him for a wound of the Nazgûl is not light matter. Boromir, would you come with me? I shall need you both to accomplish this task," he walked off, weariness forgotten in his urgency to heal the man who had done so much for him and his city.

Ioreth saw them enter, a slight frown on her face at their manner of dress. It was obvious that they had not changed after the battle, though they were clean in appearance. While it went against her nature as a healer, she stood back and watched them hawkishly as they went to Faramir. If they tried anything she thought unwise, she would interfere. Until then, she would watch them.

Her eyes particularly rested upon the man who seemed somewhat familiar to her mind, though she could not place him. The tall, unknown man bent down, nodding his approval at the work done of the wound. But he frowned in concern, sharing a few words with Boromir.

Nodding once, he left. She heard him ask after those who had brought Faramir to them - especially Prince Imrahil. Since he had been the one who had taken care of him first, it made sense that he would be sought. Hearing his voice, she wished they had taken the moment to introduce him. Not only did he seem to know the ways of healing, that voice was familiar to her.

"Good lady," Aragorn's quiet voice sounded in her ears and she faced him. "Would you have any kingsfoil?"

"Yes. King Beren suggest we gather as much as we could, though I do not know why. It smells sweet but has no real purpose," Ioreth said, wondering why he would ask such a strange thing.

"Sweet indeed and its purpose is known to but a few," he observed softly. "Please, if you have any love for Lord Faramir, you will go and retrieve some for me. The sweet smell will help purge the darkness that haunts him mind. Once this is done, we will be able to call him back to us."

Though he wanted to get on with the work of healing, he knew he must explain at least a little of his reasoning to Ioreth. She would not help him otherwise and he trusted in this woman he recalled meeting once while studying in the great library to know what he was not saying.

"The hands of the King are the hands of a healer," she said, understanding what he was referring to. With nothing else to say, she turned and left the room. Her mind awhirl, she breathed a deep sigh as she realized that the King had finally come home to them.

"You wished to see me?" Prince Imrahil asked, yawning just a little. He had been up late, guarding the walls and helping in the clean up process.

Aragorn faced him, "I will not keep you long but I need to ask you about Faramir's condition. These wounds Lord Faramir has, they are not from an orc weapon, are they? They seem more like the weapons used by the Southron. May I ask what has been done with the weapon?"

"I drew it from him but did not think to keep it. There was much to be done to secure him and the town. But now that you mention it, it did resemble the weapons of the Southrons. Still, we have treated the wounds from their poisonous weapons before. Our people have recovered with little trouble. Why, then, does Lord Faramir languish, his fever and sickness no better?"

"These wounds are not the only things that have hurt him. I believe that it is the poison of the Wraith King himself upon his soul - and far more than that troubles him. For several years, weariness and a fierce desire to please his father has damaged his soul. An unacknowledged and undesired rivalry with Boromir has hurt him deeply. Yet, he is a strong man. Once the darkness is dispelled, he will revive."

Ioreth returned with a bowl of water, some cloths, and the required herbs. Stepping back, she watched as Aragorn crushed a few leaves and released the sweet aroma into the air. Gently, he used a cloth to cleanse Faramir's brow. "Faramir, arise for the darkness is gone," he softly said after a time.

Slowly, his eyes opened and he looked around, focusing first on his father's relieved face, a little shocked by the look of love shinning in the dark eyes. Then his eyes found Boromir's, a slow smile crossed both of their faces as they recognized each other. Finally, his eyes focused on Aragorn. "I am glad to see you once more, my lord. Are you here to help us?"

"Yes, I have come home to my people at last," he smiled.

"Faith will be very surprised," Faramir commented, unable to keep the quirk from twitching his lips at the pained expression on Aragorn's. "Although, I have to wonder what she will call you once you are crowned." This time, the laugh escaped.

Aragorn groaned, "I am trying not to think about it. Be at ease now, my friend, and recover. That is all I require of you at this time."

Ioreth cleared her throat, "Please, come with me. There are others in need of your care, my lord."

"Until Sauron is gone, please honor my request and tell no one who I am," Aragorn asked, an urgent sound in his voice. It was something he felt needed to be done, he had to earn his place because of his actions – not because of his parentage. If he did not earn it honestly, he would never truly feel as though he was king in name as well as deed.

Puzzled by the request, she looked at Denethor, who nodded. "If that is what you wish though those who know the legends will realize the truth," she said. They both left the room and Denethor sat down, reaching out for Faramir's hand.

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_Author's Note: About Aragorn's thoughts over Éowyn's battle with Angmar, I honestly think that's why she did what she did – not because of unrequited love over Aragorn. But that's just me._


	27. You Took To Long Rescuing Us

_PLEASE READ! Author's Note: Sauron will be referred to by male nouns even though he's using Willow's body. If it is confusing, let me know so that I can figure out how to work around it. But, as it stands, I figure that Sauron would think of himself as a male even though his body is female. It's a way to keep the two identities separate_.

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Sauron found that it was not so easy being a physical being once more - especially in a female body. For one thing, his sense of balance was completely off and the actual reality of certain parts of the…female anatomy certainly complicated matters. If he was more sure of how her powers would react to a change of gender, he would resume male form.

Unfortunately, he was not. So, he was forced to remain female.

"My lord, I bring you some bad news," one of his commanders said. Though he didn't fear much, he did fear this. But it was his task – only because he had drawn the short stick. "Our forces have been thoroughly routed at Minas Tirith."

"What?" Sauron roared, voice echoing unpleasantly in the cavernous hall. Above, his lidless eye flared to life once more, focusing on the city. It was searching, searching for those who had opposed his forces.

"And King Angmar has perished by the hand of the White Lady," he timidly finished, cowering away from the rage in the flame like eyes that turned on him.

"The audacious, impertinence of those mortals," Sauron hissed, disappearing from view. Screams erupted in the city as the witch stormed down the paths and towards the House of Healing. Doors flung open at her slightest push, shattering when they reached the walls.

Finally, she entered one where the scent was something Sauron knew well. It was that horrible plant kingsfoil. "So, the false King has tried to spared one from the touch of Angmar. I shall take him anyway."

"You shall not have my son!" Denethor vowed, standing between them. The standoff was eerily similar to Éowyn's own with the Nazgûl King.

Sauron laughed, not appreciating the irony of it. "I remember you. You are that tiny minded, little man who…how very quaint, you have discovered a backbone. To little, to late - stand aside."

Denethor swallowed, but looked into the inhuman eyes firmly, "I said, you shall not take him."

A very irritated sound escaped Sauron's lips, "You ridiculous man. Either you move to the side or I will move you myself. I shall not tell you again."

"I will not!"

"Father," Faramir's whispery voice was nearly unheard in the room, "Do not do this."

Denethor glanced once at him, face soft in the harsh afternoon glow. "I may not ever have said it to you, nor shown it as I should have, but I do love you. Do not ask me to back away from this, Faramir. I will not lose you." He faced Sauron again, "Leave him alone. He is not for you to take."

Flicking her wrist, she tossed him away and stepped towards Faramir again, "Little bug," she said. Pushing himself to his feet, he blocked her path again. Growling in frustration, she stopped again. "Very well, you shall take his place."

Fire flares out of her fingertips, a mixture of colors. "You could have spared yourself this pain." A blaze of flame scared his cheek.

In response, he spat in her face.

"You will regret that," she promised, several flames hitting him all at once. "I will savor your screams, old man - and then I will kill your son so that you may understand the futility in fighting against me."

Denethor bit his lip, stopping the screams cold. He had already yielded before. He would not any longer. He would deny her the screams that wished to escape. For once, he would not grant Sauron - for who else could it be but him despite the very obvious female form - victory.

A sharp pain slammed into her side and she looked down, shocked to see the knife hilt sticking out and a thin line of blood trailing down. Blasting back the hobbit, she glared at the gathered group, enraged. "This is far from over. You will all regret this futile defiance." A final flame surrounded the helpless Denethor before she vanished.

Gandalf and Aragorn exchanged glances, the Istari clearly reading the accusation in the gray eyes. "We cannot always predict how things will work out," he reminded him, though he himself was not sure that this was so in this particular case.

"But we should have been more aware of the danger, you knew that he became physical because of her before. How did you not expect him to take advantage of her after she was captured by his main man? I believe that Buffy was right. Had she been there, Angmar would not have been able to reach her."

"You cannot know that," Gandalf scolded him.

"No, but I know that they feel the Nazgûl when we do not. They are able to affect the Nazgûl in a way that I do not understand. It is almost as if the Wraiths know what they are and fear it." He walked to the downed man, shaking his head as he checked him over. "There is nothing I can do for you, honored son of Gondor. Rest well for you have earned it."

Denethor breathed his last.

Faramir's eyes filled with tears that could not fall. He was too tired to shed them, to shocked. "He did it for me. But why? Why did he wait so long to tell me?"

"I do not think he knew until now just how deeply he felt. Blinded by his love of glory and power, he could not see the truth of his feelings. Power is a strange thing," Gandalf observed, choosing every word carefully. "It can make a compassionate man weak with gluttony and lust. It can turn a weak man into a tyrant. Power can be used sparingly and wisely by those who do not want it. Your father was a good man who became blinded by the lies and trickery of Sauron."

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"Cordelia," Boromir softly called into the darkened room. He stood in the doorway, waiting to hear her voice.

"Boro," her reply was sickly and weak. There was a strained note in it, "You _**will**_ marry me, mate with me, bond with me, whatever you wish to call it, so you better stop standing on ceremony. It is highly frustrating. Would you just get your cute, little self in here immediately. Do not worry, Beren has left for the night. He says that Lúthien talked to you and that you know what to do."

He stepped in, leaving the door partially open, and sat down beside her bed. There was still some discomfort in him about being alone with her. For some reason, it felt different now that he was home. "She talked to me but as for knowing what to do, no. I am afraid that I am in the dark about this - I do not even know how to be a true vampire."

"Angel botched the job, didn't he?" she asked, seeking his hand. "Just wait until I get my hands on that broody dolt - he'll wish that he'd done a better job and had stayed with you."

"Angel is dead, Cordelia," he told her, accepting her hand. "When Willow was taken by Angmar, Sauron must have removed his soul. I felt the difference in him and then, he was just gone."

"Sauron possessed Willow," she breathed, focusing on what was more important because of what it may mean to them all. "He must have destroyed Angel's soul instead of merely removing it. Only the destruction of it would protect Sauron from losing his newest recruit. Do you feel different?"

Boromir's head shook, "I feel the same. From what Lúthien said, I will only lose my humanity if I kill and drink from a human."

"Harsh," she said. "Does Buffy know?"

His eyes closed momentarily, in remembered pain. "Yes, she found out when I arrived in Rohan. Waking up in Lothlórien, not knowing what was going on or what happened to me," his head shook, "I did not know what to do. My sire was far away and the only one who could serve in his place needed me to guide him. It was a very confusing time. It was a good thing I did not seek Willow's aid. That would have been fatal."

Her look at the mention of Aragorn was scathing, "Yes, about this _Aragorn_. I have heard some things about him and not all of it good." She resolutely ignored the reference to Willow as it had not happened and she didn't think she could contemplate the thought of fighting against Boromir.

"Aragorn's changed since I met him," he laughed. "I think he changed the most dramatically after seeking the oath breakers, though meeting Éowyn certainly snapped some sense into him. It is very strange but after their encounter, he no longer fought his fate as King. He seemed more at peace with the idea, not only of ruling but about being a mortal man."

"So, he will take his throne as he should? I will not have to shove it down his throat?" she questioned, skeptical of his words.

"You are actually the one whose motives they fear, Cordelia. I have been asked - repeatedly - if you will relinquish the throne to him when the time comes," he answered sardonically.

"As far as I am concerned, he can have it right now," she snapped. "Where are these fools who think so little of me? Take me to them now. I will set them straight."

"Lord Boromir, Aragorn and Gandalf want to see you. Immediately," a woman said from the doorway. She looked slightly shocked to see them in the bedroom, though the scene was innocent.

"Tell those graceless, cowardly, spineless, worthless wastes of physical bodies to get their scrawny, buck passing, little butts in here. NOW!" she ordered, pushing herself upright. "Boro, light some lamps in here. I want to see them."

Gandalf walked in after a while. Aragorn behind him, hardly any timidity in showing at being so summoned. The man joined Boromir as Gandalf stared at her. "We are not to be ordered about like this, young lady."

"That's rich coming from you, Gandalf. You did not even _ask_ him to join you when he could - you _ordered_ him to see you," she replied, glaring at him. It did not matter to her who he was. She was not going to cower away from him - even without Beren generously aiding her with his strength and authority. "I will not have it. You owe Boromir an apology."

"I what?" he asked, looking startled and more than a little shocked by her attitude.

"You heard me – You Owe Boromir An Apology," she enunciated each word, arms crossing her chest. "And you," she pointed to Boromir, "You will not shrug it off like it means nothing."

"Got it," he smiled, then looked at Gandalf. "Do not fight her on this. She will go toe to toe with you – and win. But I will skip the formalities, I accept your apology."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, "I will let this go – just this once. What happened?"

Aragorn hesitated, looking at Boromir. Correctly interpreting his look, he said, "Not only is she acting as your regent, she is my fiancée. If it concerns me, then it concerns her. My brother is not worse, is he?" he asked, face losing any expression.

"Sauron just appeared to us," Aragorn started, still somewhat hesitant. "He wanted to kill Faramir to even to score after losing Angmar. Your father defended him and was punished severely for this act. I am afraid that we did not make it in time. We were able to make his passing easier than Sauron had planned."

Strangely, Boromir smiled at that. Though it was a smile tinged with regret, "I am glad that Faramir learned how much father loved him."

"His action did more than that," Gandalf was quick to reiterate what he had said earlier to Faramir. This was something that both needed to know. "He redeemed himself, gained forgiveness and peace of mind from his past actions."

"Though I thank you for your words, you do not understand what is really important about this."

"How can your father's redemption mean so little?" he asked, puzzled.

"It means a lot. But there is something more important to Faramir and I," he softly said. "Our father has always been a quiet and reserved man when it came to his emotions. This is especially true in regards to Faramir. To know that he is loved, that is something that everyone wants to know. It may be a mortal failing, but it is there. Faramir always wondered and feared that father did not care, my own love was not enough. But now he knows. He has more than my word about this, he has father's final act."

Gandalf's hand rested under his chin, processing the words that he heard. There was a ring about them, a familiar truth that he had once known. A sigh escaped him as he realized just how much he had lost when he fell and was reborn.

"Thank you for being with him, my friend," he held out his hand to Aragorn, clasping it firmly. "And Cordelia, Beren - thank you for giving him a second chance, not many would do the same."

"I had very little to do with it."

Boromir and Aragorn were both startled, very surprised by the changed voice that came from the woman on the bed. It was the first time either had heard Beren speak. They found it more than a little disconcerting and could only imagine how those who had first heard it must have felt.

"While I may have taken him away from the _palantir_ that so tempted and beguiled him, it was young Peregrin Took who most helped him. It was this valiant hobbit who stood beside him and helped him to stay firmly on his new path. He would not let him wallow in despair even after they brought Faramir in. He rarely left him to face this task alone."

"Then it seems that I have another thing to thank my young brother for. Is he well?" he asked, sensing something.

"Pippin is with Faramir in the House of Healing. He distracted Sauron and was hurt, but not terribly so. Even now, he rests easily," Aragorn reassured him.

"Give him your thanks and return soon. Miss. Chase needs your strength for her own is failing fast," Beren warned him, "As warned, even her indomitable courage will fall."

"I shall return soon," he promised.

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Faith, Spike, and Dawn snuck as quickly as they could across the barren land before them, unhappy to be so exposed. Before them the sight of the blood fire mountain glowed fiercely, absorbing all the light into it. Spike's hand went up and they stopped, watching him as he cocked his head, listening intently to something ahead of them.

"Orcs - and they have the hobbits with them," he finally said.

"Do we fight or run?" Faith questioned, hand grasping the sword Spike had taken from Angel. After all, he didn't need it now and hers had been lost somewhere in the caves. She was pretty sure she had broken it with that last strike against the orc's head anyway. "You know which I would prefer Spike."

Spike felt the weight of leadership settle upon his shoulders as he realized they both looked to him - _to him_ - for guidance. For a moment, he didn't want it. Didn't want that burden to choose if they lived or died. He envied Angelus his death.

He got over it. "We'd never make it, doves. I say - we fight."

"You're going to need this," Faith offered the sword to Dawn. Cocking three arrows tightly into her bow as Elendil had taught her - or was it the other one? - she let them fly when the first heads came into view. Firing off several more covering shots, she watched as Spike entered the fray with a decidedly eager cry.

Flipping over the bodies after putting away her bow and arrow, she grasped two swords and slashed away, enjoying herself far to much. "Come on, Dawn, time to earn your battle colors!" Her fist smashed into the nose of the orc in front of her, hearing it break in satisfaction. "Nah - even that didn't improve your looks."

The second sword jabbed the belly while she hacked off her opponent's head, already looking for another victim. Turning to the side, she kicked one and as he bent over, she leap frogged over him, stabbing him under his chinstrap.

On the other side, Spike was employing every one of his old tricks - and some he'd picked up from Gunn and the Scoobies. For the first time since Angelus' departure, he was able to lose himself in the moment and forget what he had done. Taking down more than a few, he looked over his shoulder and saw several more running at him full speed. A laugh escaped him even as he wished for a cigarette.

It would add just the right touch to this scene.

Standing up, he watched them approach him, totally relaxed. "Oh, come now. I think this is slightly uneven," he said. "Why don't you rustle up a few of your buddies to even things up? I'll wait."

One unleashed an axe. Spike jumped back, bent down and grasped it from where it had planted itself in the ground. Recalling a trick he'd learned from Gimli, he smirked. "Now, really, let me show you how it's done." Kicking up a few of the scattered weapons, he rapidly hooked them on the top of the axe, flinging them fast and furious, driving a wedge in their solid wall.

Sprinting forward, he cut through the leather straps and into their bellies. Slashing at the unprotected necks, he felled many more. An arrow sailed past him and he heard the sound of the impact. A quick glance behind revealed an orc, dangerously close to him, falling to the ground, an arrow shaft in his back.

"Careful," Gunn's familiar voice teased him. "One would think you're losing your edge in your advancing age."

"Humorous," he replied before going back to the fight. Their forces now made slightly larger with the arrival of Gunn's men. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, we _were_ supposed to be rescuing you - but I don't think you really need it. Do you?" Gunn asked, stabbing an orc. "Where do you _find_ these guys?"

"We're just lucky," Spike replied, scanning the field for Dawn. "Seen Dawn?"

"She's over there," he pointed over to where she was, skirting much of the battle. It looked like she was steadily moving towards the small group of orcs who stood – unmoving – in a circle. "What is she doing?"

"Rescue," he grimly replied, quickly guessing what was in the circle of orcs. It was the only thing that made sense to him. "Get your archers to scatter those orcs. I don't need any more unpleasant surprises."

Dawn crept as close as she dared to them, senses fully aware of everything that was happening around her. Slowly, she dropped to the ground, watching for any sigh that she'd been spotted. The guards seemed to be more focused on the battle and she pulled herself forward, looking for the hobbits they had come to help.

Arrows flew over her head, hitting two of the orcs in the throat while a third pierced a breastplate. She barely had time to roll out of the way before they raced past, sensing the new threat. Now, she could see the hobbits they'd been guarding and the pitiful looking creature with them.

Joining them, she cut their bonds and looked for a safe place for them to hide until the battle was over. Though she could fight - Buffy had insisted she learn - she was no fool. Even with the training she received from Boromir, she _knew_ she had neither the skill nor the experience to fight on this scale.

A robed figure stepped in front of them and the hobbits froze. Dawn studied him, fear chilling her heart. Of course, she realized that he was no Nazgûl, he appeared far to human for that, but his look had one of lustful thoughts and deep greed. Of one who knew the mind of pure evil and she shivered again, hearing one of them call him the Mouth of Sauron.

Without thought, she stepped forward, blocking him from moving forward. The lieutenant of Barad-dûr smiled at her, almost as if he wanted to seem kind. "Stand aside for we have no business with you," her voice sounded faint to her. Cringing, she tried to make up for the weak sound by looking fiercely determined.

"You do when you are stealing the hostages and slaves of my Lord Sauron," he mocked her, voice tracing upon her nerves like nails being dragged along a chalkboard. There was not even a faint trace of elegance or seduction that those of the dark usually possessed within their voice there. Dawn and the hobbits shirked away from it, almost unable to bear the sound. "They are trespassers on our land - as are you and your friends."

"They are free born hobbits," she answered. "As for our trespass, could you not just give us a firm warning and send us on our way, never to return?"

Now, he laughed openly. Cruelly, "Does your King think I am a toy that he sends a child to deal with me?"

"I have no King for I am an American and even if I did, I am sure he knows you are no toy but a big bully who ekes a living beating people up to make up for a lack of personality," she snapped.

"So, I merely beat people up? Then why have I not fought you?"

"Because you can't!" she shouted. "You think me beneath you because I'm a girl and small."

The sound of a sword being drawn caught her ear and she swallowed, her bravado fleeing once again. But she held firm. After all, she had started this - she needed to see it through to what promised to be her painful end. When his sword came at her, she instinctively blocked it and pushed back. As they circled about, memories of her lessons surfaced.

_Just control his central line_, she thought, _do not let him take yours_. It was easier to chant it than to do it but as she listened, she could hear Boromir's firm voice in her mind. She could feel his hands on hers, guiding her steps and her grip. She felt their familiar rhythm take over and soon had him following her lead - and then his sword was wrested from him, he was on his knees before her.

Here, she hesitated - could she do it? Could she take a human life, even one as perverted as this one?

"_The first time you take a life, you are forever changed by that one action, little sister. Fight if you must but if you can spare a life, do so,_" Boromir's voice reminded her.

With the pommel of her sword, she knocked him out. In her heart, she knew that it was the only thing she could do. "He could be of use to us," she said to the questioning looks. "Can we go before anything else happens?"

"Little bit is right," Spike said. "We do need to leave. Did you finish you task?"

Frodo nodded, yawning tiredly. Faith carried him along and Sam tiredly followed behind until Spike took pity on him and gently picked him up. Sméagol looked around, skirting the Gondorians nervously, trying to decide what he should do.

"Little Master and his friend, wait for me," he called out at last, following distantly behind them.

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Buffy, Oz, Xander, Bain, and Banwyck got out of the boat and walked along, noticing the rapids ahead. "What we need to do is carry the boat along this path until we pass the Rauros Falls for we did not design our boats to travel along such fast paced water. It will be a little tricky carrying the boat that far but it would be far safer than trying to journey by the river. We will take turns."

"You have done your share, let us take the first turn at carrying the boat," Buffy said. Already, she was judging the weight and how to both lift and carry it. Though the two men argued against it, in the end, she won. With ease, she lifted the boat up and walked along with it over her head, trusting Oz and Xander's directions as it almost completely blocked her sight.

They would not lead her wrong.

Bain and Banwyck watched her, bemused by her actions. Truly, they had not accepted all that they were told. But now, they believed it all, every word they had been told of the strange woman and her unusual friends. It was hard to deny it in the face of this evidence, but it did make them wonder about Oz. They had both noticed the rather peculiar tendencies he exhibited.

It was on the fifteenth day of their journey when they heard heralds sounding a call to move forth. They had finally arrived at Minas Tirith, the White City they had heard so much about.

They quickly made their way to the area with the most commotion. It was easy for them to spot the members of the Fellowship they had already met. And with Buffy's slayer senses were tweaking to the presence of a vampire. She could tell that he knew she was there as well.

The crowd parted as he made his way to them and a silence descended upon the crowd as they watched Cordelia follow after him. Boromir and Buffy stared at each other tensely, unsure of the other, "You smell."

"Well, you are no rose either," he retorted, a hand reaching out to her.

She grasped it and jerked, pulling him into a hug, "Nice to see you again."

"Keep the hug familial, Buffy, and I will not have to tear you arms off," Cordy warned, her tone making it quite clear that she was _not_ joking. "And use them to beat you up. I know of your fatal attraction to vampires."

"So says the woman who nearly gave birth to a nation of demon spawn," she replied, stepping back anyway and looking at her critically. "You look better than I feared you would when I heard of your possession."

"I am - but you don't look so good," she commented.

"Willow's been taken to Mordor," she stated. "I saw her on that foul creature - and I am going after her."

"Correction," Cordy told her, "Willow has been possessed by Sauron and is now our enemy."

"Then I have even less time to waste here," Buffy's voice was flat. "Because we _all_ know there is more danger than her just being possessed by tall, dark, and obsessed. Will knows the truth about Dawn and she knows she's in Mordor."

"You will find the journey easier if you ride with us," a familiar voice said. "I trust you have not lost your ridding bottom."

"I trust that you will learn some tact," she started to say, eyes widening, shocked. "I don't believe it. We left them in Dale."

"They are your horses and know of your great need. They came here to you," Éomer said. "Truly, your horses are quite remarkable."

Buffy grasped the reigns and hilt, hoisting herself up easily. She shifted until she was comfortable, watching as Xander and Oz did the same. Looking at Éomer, she asked, "Mordor is which way?"

"Join us," Aragorn invited, "We are going there now. I will keep Gandalf from interfering in your task," he finished, correctly reading her mulish expression.

"We would travel faster alone," she said.

"True - but we know several short cuts that will get us there safer and faster than you would trying to follow our instructions. We know the terrain," he calmly pointed out. "We are worried about her too. She is our friend."

"Buff, he's right," Xander said gently. "We can't go into that land alone. We need help to do this."

Buffy steamed, but released her breath slowly. "How long must we delay and give this Sauron time to truly take control of Willow? Take control to the point were we can't reach her?"

"You will leave now," Cordy announced, "Sauron is still weakened by the wound given him by Pippin. Go before he has fully regained his strength."

"What of you?" Oz asked, holding the reigns loosely.

"Boromir and I will maintain the defense of Minas Tirith. Éowyn has ridden home - against Aragorn's wise counsel - to ready her people. We will keep him as busy and divided as we can. You do your part and let us do ours."

654321

Three days into the trip, they could see the Black Gates looming to their left. On the fourth day, they waited as the heralds sounded their arrival and Gandalf went forth to issue a challenge to the army of Mordor. The door slid open, eerily making no sound in the stillness and a group emerged, robed dark as night.

But something seemed strange about them. Something that did not seem quite right about their look. But they were hard pressed to figure out what it was. The door closed behind them with a solid thud. And there was true silence on the field.

"Well?" Gandalf asked after a while. "Does not your Master have a message for us?"

"Not particularly," one of them said. "At least, I have not been told one. Though I might have missed it during the whole betrayal, having to send one of our own to the crazy one in the seven walled city."

"_**DAWN?!?!?**_" Buffy could not hold back her cry of shocked joy at hearing the familiar voice, though it was disguised somewhat. She pushed forward and stared at the one who'd turned to face her. A slight hint of light pierced the shadows and she saw her, quite clearly.

"_**YOU IDIOT**_! What do you think you're doing?" she asked even as she leapt off the horse and hugged her, lifting her off the ground.

"Getting out of that place," she replied, clutching her even closer. Tears filled her eyes as she hung onto her sister. Not caring for perhaps the first time what this said about her. She needed her sister's strength and love for her more in that moment than she had ever needed anything else in her life - with the exception of wanting her mother back. "You were taking to long to rescue us."

"And this smelly outfit from the evil couture?" she asked, clutching her closer, knowing what she was feeling.

"Borrowed from the wretched skunk who injured Gunn."

"Oh, how quaint. The pathetic rabble delights in such temporary and most fleeting of saccharine scenes," a voice taunted, both achingly familiar and painfully unknown.

"Willow," Xander breathed out.

"Now, now, little boy, surely even you can see that I am not your friend," the reply was cold. "She is - _how would you charmingly put it_? - no longer at home."

"You're lying," he denied, wondering at the stiff way the being was standing. Sauron - magically at least - had them at his mercy. So, what was wrong that the Dark Lord held himself so stiffly? Was he truly not as in control as he would like them to believe he was?

"Why would I do that? Lying is what the heroes do," he flatly finished, slamming lightening down upon them. As expected, those on horses found themselves thrown - with few exceptions - and had to roll out of the way to avoid being crushed.

"Sauron, why do you not just fight me? Leave them out of this," Aragorn challenged, dismounting and stepping forward, sword in hand.

"That is a very foolish idea. I am _**not**_ some stupid, little minion who does not know more than what I am told. They are a part of this battle. Therefore, they are all a danger to me and what I am doing," Sauron chided him as a parent would a child.

"Attack!" he ordered, destroying the arrows that flew at him. Sauron watched dispassionately as his forces slaughtered and were in turn slaughtered. All to painfully aware of the sheer, frail, ridiculous _mortality_ of this body.

It was the one thing Sauron had not counted on, them finding those cursed swords that pierced magical protections. That really held within the metal they were made of the only poison that could weaken and destroy his power and control. Frustrating for they sickened his body, but it was not an insurmountable if one was willing to step aside and rest for a time.

Sauron was not ready to do so, nor was he willing.

After all this time, he could not afford to rest. They would grow strong and become more cohesive as a unit if he did so. But he was not stupid. He knew that he'd have to choose his battles carefully until full strength and power had returned to him.

As he surveyed the battle, he noticed the hobbits - more specifically, the one who had wounded him. He was fighting alongside of his companions, near the edge of the battle. Feeling something stir to life at the sight of her old friends and comrades, he blocked his mind against the rising tide of memories and the feelings they stirred to life.

Instead, he brought up more magic to fight. He channeled his frustration into what he was doing. Shaken but undeterred, he gleefully attacked them - until a blow to the side his head sent him reeling, stumbling to the ground.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

The voice came through the ringing in his head. It was the voice of one of those warrior girls – the so called _Slayer_. Rolling over, he lashed out at with one, well aimed punch. Faith fell over, stunned that Sauron had _physically_ attacked her. But it was only momentary. She rolled to her feet, fists ready for anything.

"There is no one my own size," Sauron sneered, becoming taller and more defined before their eyes. Though he was aware that it would weaken him - especially as he was standing on ground that reached the side that was still Willow - he did it anyway. Stepping forward, he brought his foot down where the slayer had been, only for it to smash empty ground.

"Enough!" the voice roared out and the battlefield was silenced as they _all_ found themselves struggling to survive under the attack of an oppressive weight that seemed to be crushing them from above. Pushing out all the air in their bodies, their life seeping away.

Sauron did not care who fell under this attack but it was no error that those most affected were those opposing him. He was reacting to the emotions within but still retained enough sense to attack his enemies.

Spike was torn between self-preservation - for he knew Sauron could cancel his protection easily. And saving the little bit – his little sister - who had the spunk and tenacity he admired.

"Willow, please," a voice pierced through the agonized cries. "Wake up."

Sauron's eyes narrowed, searching for the owner of the voice. He had a strange, funny feeling about that voice and rose back up to the Black Gates, feeling it leave as the ground fell away Not knowing what the feeling had been, he lashed out with greater ferocity. The voice followed and would not be silenced, even by the great pain it felt.

"This isn't you, Will. I know that you're in there still," it carried on in a hoarse wheeze, "Take back your life."

"Who _**dares**_ to talk to me like this?" Sauron demanded harshly, "Show yourself."

Slowly crawling out of the fallen on the fields, Xander crawled into the dim light. On very shaky legs, he rose and half bowed, "Xander Harris," he almost mockingly introduced himself, "And I'd like my best friend back."

Sauron seethed, "You have no right to _**demand**_ anything from me, foolish man."

"Then may be I do," Aragorn said, joining Xander at the wall. "That body is not yours. I command you to leave that body and depart from this land. You have no place here any longer."

There was something painfully familiar about this man's appearance and, while he had recognized the sword hilt vaguely, it was not until it was fully drawn in the shaking hand that he realized it was no copy. No mere attempt to recreate the blade of Isildur - it was the self same sword reforged. Pure shock stopped his spell cold, allowing them to regain their breath and strength to fight on.

"Elessar," he hissed, voice so low it sounded like a hissing curse. Rage darkened his sight but he held back. He had waited eons to get revenge upon this particular family, he would not let his emotions rule over him - again. He would not let them destroy this chance.

This time, he would _**not**_ lose because of rash emotion.

"A name that shall soon be spoken in the full light of day," Aragorn – Elessar-agreed, ignoring Faith's disdainful snort at hearing that he had yet _another_ name. Idly, he wondered what she would think if she knew he also had an elvish name on that list of identities. Decided he really did not want to know and turned his full attention back to Sauron. "As the Rightful King of Middle-Earth, I command you to give up that body and leave."

"You have no authority over me," Sauron sneered at him. "Your affection for this body cripples you for you shall not attack while I inhabit it. As such is the case, why, then should I yield it?"

A powerful blast of magic momentarily stunned Sauron.

"They may care for that body but I claim no such feelings. To me, it is just another vessel you inhabit." Gandalf stepped forward, mostly unfazed by the attack.

"Gandalf the White, formerly the Gray," Sauron acknowledged him. "How does it feel to gain such power and lose much of your compassionate humanity? Do you dare to judge me for what I have done when you - in your new strength - could have helped her fight me? You used her good nature and powers for your purpose, as I am doing. The only difference between us is that I am more open about it."

Silence met his speech, "Did you even thank her for what she did? Or did you condemn her for it?" he mockingly asked, already knowing the answer. "She is better off like this, asleep and far from harm."

"Liar," Frodo stated. "She may be asleep but every action you do, harms her for she loses more of herself to you."

"By what knowledge have you that makes you say such a ridiculously naïve and brainless thing?"

"Possession by the Ring," he flatly said. "It ate away at Sméagol, at my Uncle. And at me, trying to turn me into a mindless slave. That is what you are doing to her right now. It is what you would do to us all."

"Again with this nonsensical talk of the girl none of you really seem to see, you just want her powers."

"No, we want our Willow back. With or without her power," Sam said quietly.

"You are talking in circles, saying nothing of any value," Sauron sighed, completely bored. "Finish them off," the order was casually given as the Dark Lord turned away, mind already on other matters.

"Our words may mean nothing to you, but it is not strictly you we were speaking to," Xander stood on the wall, right in Sauron's path, meeting the darkened, on fire eyes evenly. "We know Willow is inside and want her to know we are here, waiting for her. That we love her - no matter what you are doing in her body."

"Useless emotion," he sneered, negligently waving a hand, knocking him over the side of the wall.

Xander managed to get a good grip on it and pulled himself up. Without a pause, he followed Sauron. "I love her. And if you want us killed, do it yourself. Kill me if you think you can."

A disbelieving laugh escaped Sauron. Turning to face the young man, he could not help but feel some slight admiration for his desperate act. The boy had guts, he had to give him congratulations for that. He did not think he knew of anyone else who would approach him in this manner.

It was still highly nauseating, "What is this, worthless child? Some kind of psychological trick? Trying to see what I will do?"

"I don't know what you would call it. All I know is that you have my friend and I love her. I will follow you no matter where you go until you kill me - or she is free from you."

Sauron stepped back, shocked at the hand that touched his. "Stop it," he ordered, something inside reached out for the touch, wanting to respond.

"No," Xander answered, following. "This can only end in one of two ways - and I am not going to yield."

"It can only end in one way," Sauron regained control, "It will end in your death." A cruel smile formed, "And it will be most painful."

"Doesn't matter," Xander shrugged before pain hit him, tearing into him. "I will die looking into my best friend's face."

Sauron made some kind of sound that could not be described. But it chilled the atmosphere. Those who could hear it, roze, unable to understand the cry.

"Giles, do something!" Buffy screamed, dodging a falling body and slicing through another. "Sauron will kill us all!"

"There is nothing I can do," he said, fighting as well as he could. Unlike the others, his strength was rapidly failing. Though he was in better shape than when he first started, he was not used to such extended periods of brutal fighting.

Faith spat out a mouthful of blood, "Why not?"

"Her power is tainted, changed by Sauron. My grasp is shaky enough - I am more of a learned practitioner than an actual user. We would need more natural talent than I have," he paused, stricken by a thought. "TARA!" He couldn't help but shout it out, ducking the sword swinging at him – but only barely.

"What?" Buffy asked even as Faith said, "Who?"

"Tara, the girl we found near Isengard," again, he had to duck. This time, he dropped into a roll and pierced his attacker under the rib cage. "The one who killed Lindsey after he told her the truth about Glory. Her magic is tainted. It may not be as strong - I doubt anyone has enough strength to do an honest battle while Sauron is altering her powers - but her power has the advantage over mine for it is mixed."

"Where is she?" Gandalf demanded, pushing through the hordes, bodies falling away from him as though his touch was stunning or killing them.

"After fleeing Rohan, I would imagine she went to find Ben in Gondor," he said, head aching. Their whole conversation had been conducted at a yell, mixed in with pained screams and feral roaring. "There is no way even Shadowfax can get you there and back, if you managed to find her, that is."

A cry from above cut him off as Pippin screamed, "_**Eagles!**_ _**The eagles are coming**_!" His cry was most welcome to their ears.

Tara clung weakly to the bird, still not sure how she ended up here in hell. The last thing she remembered was stumbling into that town and seeing Ben. And he threw her – literally – onto this eagle, saying something about what the King of Gondor had said about her.

The eagle dove down, driving a wide wedge into the amassed hordes as they made straight to Gandalf. The Istari nearly pulled her arm off when he jerked her down and thanked the eagle. His stare turned to her, judging her power and her own stamina for this. Though he was far from pleased, she was all they had. "Are you able to fight?"

"What?" she stammered, not sure she heard him correctly. Full memory slowly returned. Cordelia may have told her that she was needed - and Ben had made her go – but she had not expected this. It was far from her experience. "Fight?"

"With magic for you are needed," he snapped, unaccountably angry with her. Really, such ignorance was unacceptable. The twit should have realized the situation and been prepared to deal with it by now. "You must fight Sauron because none of us possesses the proper weapon, not having become a consort of evil."

"I was no consort!" she angrily denied. "Glory's…"

"An immortal Hell Goddess and I do not particularly care," he interrupted. "Now is what matters. You are all we have to fight Sauron on her playing field. MOVE!"

As angrily frightened as she was, she knew that she could not do this. It was not in her. "I am no warrior witch," she started.

"Again, your concerns are immaterial," he said. "You created portals in time and space using your power - and what you stole from Willow. Use it because it is the only thing that will save your life now." He pushed her over to the wall, leaving her with Giles.

She looked helplessly at him as they moved.

"Just do what comes naturally," he said. "It will come to you if you let it. The magic knows more - you know more - than you think you do. Tara, trust yourself."

Xander rose again, knees battered and bloody, taking another step towards Sauron, bracing for another attack - one that never came.

"I think you have done enough damage," Tara stammered, her hand outstretched in a shield over him.

Sauron stared, half amused by her audacious act. His brow furrowed in thought, trying to place the girl standing there. Her blue eyes met his and he sneered, "Now, that is a funny thing to say. For I do not believe I have done enough," Sauron smirked, "And my opinion is really the only one that matters now. Run along, child."

Tara was quaking, hating his patronizing tone of voice. She wanted nothing more than to bolt but she couldn't escape the feeling that this was her fault. In a way, it was. It had been her idea, an idea casually mentioned one evening to her benefactress and taken to Wolfram and Hart, that brought all of them here. Just like when she brought that guy - that gorgeous man with Cordelia - into their world while she'd been working out the bugs in temporal spells.

"No," she said, denying herself the chance to flee.

"No?" Sauron repeated, half questioningly. Half in a manner that suggested that he did not know the word's meaning. "I trust that you have a reason for your foolish refusal. A change of heart over worthy masters, perhaps?"

"I am not switching or changing anything," she said. "I am going to stop you."

"Stop me?" A laugh, sharp and bitter, came from Sauron. "How? By giving me yet another pointless lecture about peace, love, and doing the best for all living creatures? Cute but not my style." For the next few minutes, they battled and before long, Tara found herself flying off the wall, slamming into the ground. Even in the din of battle, they could hear the shattering sound of flesh breaking and bones smashing.

Channeling all of her energies as she fell - knowing she would not survive - Tara slammed it all into the body on the wall, seeing it quiver. Gandalf directed the fall towards the spot Giles had cleared of all evil and malice. Sauron hung suspended for a moment, as though trying to stop the inevitable but had to bow to the greater force that was gravity.

Aragorn rushed forward, sword raised, even as he pleaded inside for another way to end this. _It cannot end this way_, he thought, knowing of no other choice. Taking a deep breath, he swung, asking forgiveness for what he had to do.


	28. It Is King Squirrel Boy

Buffy felt everything slow down as she ran and pushed him away. "Not this way," she pleaded, "There has to be another way."

Sauron pushed up with some effort. The ground felt so odd, so clingy. His side twitched in pain. "You have only delayed your inevitable defeat."

"Wake up, Willow," she snapped, staring at him evenly. "Tell this blowhard jerk to take a hike - literally. He has no right to your body."

Sauron blinked. This was new. Of all the things he had heard this day, this was the most unusual. And what, really, was there to say to that? "Is that supposed to work?" he finally asked.

"I'm not talking to you," she snapped again. Her fist slammed into the orc behind her without breaking gazes with Sauron. "So, you just shut up. Will, you remember how you were lost in the dark and couldn't get free? You were scared - but you didn't give up. Why are you quitting now?"

Sauron winced, feeling uncomfortable in a way he could not explain. "Stop it," he ordered, all the while recognizing how futile the words were. No matter how many times he said them, _**none**_ of these people ever listened.

"We are not talking to you but the lass who helped us," Gimli's gruff voice pierced the fight. Though the attack of Sauron and the eagles' arrival had shifted the tides of battle once more in their favor, the fight was more desperate as Sauron's forces realized that he would not support them in this battle. That he would, in fact, kill them indiscriminately in order to attain his goals.

They were now in full survival mode.

"So, why do you not take your own advice and shut up?" Dawn yelled.

"What does she care of friendship?"

"A lot more than you care to acknowledge," Faith's voice shouted before she turned back to the bloody battle. She wasn't going to get involved in this battle of wits and words. It wasn't her style. Never had been and she was glad to leave it in the hands of others far more practiced in the art of speaking than she was.

Aragorn fought his way back to Sauron, nodding to Buffy. For whatever reason, she trusted his look and left them alone. It was as if she recognized that this battle had to be fought – and won – by him. "It is you who does not care about love."

"I will not be defeated by words describing such mortal weaknesses. I have given her power, strength to be free of the darkness that haunted her for so long. She is free from such trivialities. Do you think to see me weeping over such words as these that you continue to use them with me? Did you not hear me before?" Sauron asked, trying to break free from the cloying ground.

It would not yield and his mind was in confusion for it seemed that the ground was doing something to him that he could not understand. "Your little friend no longer exists, she does not need you."

"If that were true, your hand would not be stayed by us, Sauron. You would have finished us all by now. That you have not done so says that she is still there, staying your hand. While she has no full control, she is aware," Aragorn replied, stepping into the circle. The hair on the back of his neck rose, tingling as he walked closer.

Time seemed to slow around him. Enemies fell away and he clearly saw Gandalf's angry look. He could feel the swell of hope from Willow's friends as Sauron stood, silent. With great effort, he pushed these thoughts away, knowing he had to be as determined and steady as they were.

If he was ever to be King in truth as well as in name, he must be all that he wished a king to be.

Sauron seemed to be regrouping, his gaze nasty. "Did it ever occur to you that I wish to prolong this as payment for my long exile?"

The thought had never occurred to Aragorn. But now that it had been suggested, he could easily reject it. "It that was your aim, you would not have revealed yourself so early. Even to cause pain to our friends and allies, you would stayed hidden. Slow torture only works when you are not around to become engaged in the battle. We affect you," Aragorn pointed out, "Thus, you react."

Lips tightening in displeasure at the truth, he glowered. "You are a gnat to be crushed under my foot. I shall take great pleasure in ending your life."

Calm gray stared evenly into the flaming black, "Then do it. If you wish to. I will not fight you." He wondered if this is how Xander felt and marveled at the younger man's bravery. If not for seeing that example of pure love and acceptance, he did not think he would be able to do this.

Hands encircled his throat, squeezing, choking him. His eyes never wavered, even as he heard Gandalf's enraged cry. Peace filled him, knowing somehow that it would all be all right.

"_Stop! This is murder," Willow screamed, staring into Aragorn's eyes. She felt as though she had just awoken from a long sleep, the words of her friends in her ears, bringing her out of the daze._

"_It is justice," he replied, smug. "I am making right a wrong done against me."_

"_No - this is __**revenge**__. And you used me, __**you**__ used me," her voice was bitter and terribly angry. "This must stop."_

_Sauron's laugh was ugly. "No one can stop me, little girl, not even you."_

"_Don't bet on it," she replied. Taking a deep breathe, she yanked hard. Hanging onto his soul, she pulled and tugged at him before wrapping about him, clinging tightly to him._

The eyes flashed green before Sauron disappeared from the field. Aragorn sunk to his knees, gasping for breath. Buffy pushed her way towards him, stumbling momentarily. "What was that about?"

It almost seemed as if she screamed the words into his ear. He seemed so light headed, everything had a different tinge to it. "I think that was Willow, reasserting control," he coughed.

"You cannot be sure!" Gandalf practically roared at him.

"I can," he looked at them, "I saw her green eyes."

"Then where is she?" Buffy asked, looking around. The battle still raged, "If she is back, why hasn't this stopped?"

"These orcs are free creatures. They are not controlled, created, or manipulated by the hand of Sauron. Even the Uruk-hai, though created by Saruman, have free minds and will. The loss of Sauron's presence and power will not destroy them," he replied on a weary sigh. "It will only grant us a small reprieve from the battle."

"What if Sauron dies?" Buffy asked him uneasily. From seeing him on the battlefield, she knew he would have no conscience holding him back once he had decided. He would kill Willow even though she was tricked into this.

"Did you not hear what I just told you?" he asked, irritated.

"Tell me again then, bleached man," she snapped, "In easier to understand words."

"Orcs are fallen elves, not creations fueled by Sauron. Our enemies are completely independent of his power, even if they were twisted by it. Well, all of them are except for the Nazgûl and without Angmar's advanced spells protecting them, they will dissipate without the Ring to keep them alive."

"That bites," Buffy said, diving back into the fray again. In her mind, thoughts swirled about and she wished they would just shut up. Battle was not something she particularly enjoyed but it would tire her enough to be able to sleep. Thoughts of fire and Willow's scream haunted her, mingling with the sounds about her.

Yet, she could not accept what it meant.

Xander and Dawn sat against the wall with the hobbits, Sméagol bouncing around in front of them, watching and waiting. Occasionally, an orc got to close and they beat them back. For the most part, they evaded attention. They were untouched.

"Mr. Harris," Sam hesitantly started, "What do you think just happened?"

Slowly, he looked at him, eyes tired. "I wish I knew but I can only guess that Willow woke up."

"How?" Sam asked. "How could she wake up when it seemed as though Sauron had total control?"

"I do not know," he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Our words reached her but something else woke her up."

"Murder," Spike answered, making his way towards them along the shadow of the wall. He was mad, forced to withdrawal from the fight but his ring - and Angel's - had been torn away from him. Without them protecting him from the sun, he was no good to them. Granted, there was not much sun but there was still stray bands that could do him damage.

"What?" Xander was too tired to snap the question out, though he hoped that his look was unwelcoming enough to make up for it.

"Sauron tried to kill Aragorn in cold blood, using her hands and physical strength to do it. Unlike before, Sauron did not use magic. There was no distance between this act and her. She could _**not**_ justify it as she had before. You know Red - she would not condone cold-blooded, almost pre-meditated murder," Spike leaned back.

"Is she strong enough to beat Sauron?" Frodo asked tentatively.

"No," Spike's reply was blunt.

"Then how?" Pippin could not finish the question. It was just too painful when he _knew_ what the answer would be.

Xander turned haunted eyes towards Mordor, towards the smoke that rose up from the dreaded Mount Doom. More sure than he ever felt about what she was doing at that moment. "Willow's going to kill herself - and Sauron," his voice strained. His shoulders shook under the strain of his silent tears.

Sméagol let out an unholy shriek, scrambling away from them and up the wall, hideous cries of _precious, my precious_ escaping his lips as he went. The pale body disappeared into the land beyond the wall. The ground trembled and shook.

Suddenly, they jerked, feeling something shaking the ground behind them. "Get away!" Dawn shrieked, running away as the wall started to shake and tear apart under the strains of the Earth's tremors.

"Come on, Xander," Spike grabbed hold of him. "Don't let Red's death for us be in vain." They stumbled away, carrying each other as they did.

Stripping off his cloak, he threw it over Spike's body. "You're heartless."

"Demon," he snidely reminded him, oddly surprised by the act of protection though he shouldn't have been. It was sort of a joint protection they had going. "Besides, you like me this way."

Xander scoffed, "You wish." But his heart wasn't in it. All he could think about was his best friend - who wasn't here with them as she should be. "Spike, what's it like?"

"What?" he hissed in pain as his fist met the sun after pushing an orc away.

"Dying," he said, striking out with the short knife he had.

Spike knew he should have expected the question. It was only what any mortal would want to know, to ask, if ever they had a chance to. But it was a very hard question to answer. More importantly, he didn't _want_ to answer it. Comfort was something - even when he was human - that he had never been very good at.

He had never been a comforting person.

They finally broke free and found a place to take shelter in. Sitting back against the splintered wall like shape, Spike stared hard at Xander, trying to gage the state of his mind. Though Angelus had tried, he'd never been very good at it. It required to much patience, a trait he'd abolished from his nature once he'd become a vampire.

"It's different for everyone," he finally said. "I've caused quite a lot of it and I usually changed my methods - even if the wanker's council said otherwise. Those blighters rarely got anything right. If I had to say anything, I would have to say that they always had a peaceful expression in their eyes , on their faces, in the end. No matter the nature, the different degrees of violence behind it, they were always full of peace."

Xander sat down beside him and gestured for Spike to lean against him. "You can't be safe or comfortable leaning there."

After a moment, he slowly moved as though doubting Xander's sincerity. "Thanks," he grudgingly said.

"Don't mention it," he replied, almost seeing Willow's smile. Time passed and he tilted his head, "Do you hear that?"

Looking at each other, they pushed themselves up and peered carefully out, seeing only a desolate wasteland, bereft of the fighting that had filled the day. Pockets of life could be seen around them. Oz glanced up and nodded at them, coming towards them slowly. "Lose these?" he asked, holding the rings out to Spike. "Come on, we need help cleaning this up."

"What?"

"I believe that Gandalf underestimated how much power and control Sauron had over his forces. Once the Nazgûl disappeared, they did too," Oz replied. His sword flashed, plunging into the body below him as they went by, "Mostly," he added, as though it wasn't obvious.

"You're scary," Xander commented, following the man as they made their way to the two slayers, "Giles all right?"

"Well, he's looking for Dawn," he told them.

"Oh," he had nothing left to say after that. Because, really, what _was_ there to say to such a matter of fact answer.

654321

Gunn stumbled off of the eagle that had born him to Gondor, trying to move as steadily as he could. It would never do to shock the healers and the patients if he came in wildly. "Damned Lieutenant of the Wall," he muttered, grasping his wounded side. Though they had stitched it up as well as they could, they had known that he needed to get to the House of Healing. Who knew what kind of poison and spells rested in that weapon?

A figure stumbled, falling, in front of him and he instinctively reached out to help, feeling the wound tear and tighten. "Hey, you all right?" he asked, swallowing back his pain. The body rested in his arms, an almost dead weight.

"She's coming," he gasped out and Gunn recognized with horror Ben. "I can't hold her back any longer."

"What do I do?"

"Snap my neck," he groaned and shuddered, moving away from him. The words came from him slowly, painfully clear in Gunn's ears, "Or stab me if you can. It's the only way."

"But I've never…"

"If she gets out, everyone here will either die or become a slave. Your choice," his eyes closed.

Gunn hesitated for just a second and then snapped the fragile neck. Once assured he was truly dead, Gunn turned away and vomited. His head thunked against the wall, shaking. Of all the things he'd ever done, killing a human being had not been one of them.

"_You have done well, young man. Never doubt that your actions this day has prevented the rise of a very great evil_," a soothing woman's voice said. A gentle hand rubbed his back. "_It was a hard decision you had to make but you are a pragmatic man. I say again, you have done well_."

A strong hand clasped his arm, helping him up. "Come on, Gunn," Faramir's hoarse voice said. "Let's get you to a bed, this is hardly the best place to rest. The King has already set in motion the burial of this unfortunate soul."

"Decent of her," Gunn muttered, trying not to lean to hard on the other man. As far as Faramir had come, he could see that he was far from one hundred percent well.

"It was for he was a good man, even if he was terribly burdened."

Gunn rolled his eyes, wondering how his sarcasm had come across as sincerity to the man. "Any news from the front?" he asked, nodding at Ioreth. "I only vaguely remember seeing another eagle pass us as we flew here."

"From what I could see from the wall, there seems to be a stop in the fighting, though I could not tell if it was temporary or not. Yet, I have my own beliefs regarding the answer to that question," he replied, sighing in relief as they both fell onto the bed.

"How are you doing, sir?"

"Gunn, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Faramir before you do?" he asked, slightly exasperated with him. Pushing himself up slightly, he aided Ioreth in removing his coat. "It hardly seems fair that you call my brother by his name but will not do the same for me when we fought together."

"I know him," Gunn said.

"And you do not know me?" Faramir asked.

"It is not the same," he leaned forward and the shirt came free.

The sight of blood on the white shirt made him and Ioreth wince. "What happened to you?" he asked, the question taking precedence over their previous conversation.

"You tell me your story first. The last I knew, you were patient here," he gasped a little, feeling the twinge as his shirt was removed, "Faramir."

"Aragorn healed me. I no longer have visions of those dark beings. My grief over my father has eased," he smiled, hiding his concern at the size and color of the wound. Seeing it made him wish Lord Elrond was with them because he did not think they had anything that could help.

"Yes, I heard about him. I am sorry for your loss," he grunted as Ioreth hit a particularly sore spot.

"Thank you," Faramir smiled, holding out a bandage. "Now, will you tell us what happened to you?"

"Well, just now, I ran into Ben who warned me that Glory was about to break free. I had to kill him in order to spare us her. It was the only way," he paused, allowing that to sink in.

Ioreth clicked her tongue but said nothing. She _knew_ there was something not quite right about that man.

"As for why I am back here, I ran into a little trouble on our rescue mission. It went well - until we took captive the Lieutenant of Mordor. For the first leg of our journey, he was unconscious. As I was tightening the ropes binding him, he woke up. Let's just say, my side met his weapon and I went down. I think Spike or Faith killed him. All I know for sure is that it hurt, especially when that eagle showed up. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for the ride. But it hurt," he yawned, leaning back.

"Rest now, sir," Ioreth soothed him, shooing Faramir off. "Let me tend to his wounds. He needs rest, not an interrogation.

"But I…will see you later, Gunn," he finished, knowing that look only to well. He had outstayed his welcome.

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Aragorn sighed as the last of the wounded was taken away. Now, it was time to turn his attention to taking care of the dead. "I know what you are thinking. You do what you can," Oz quietly said, "And never feel as if you have done enough. Give it a rest."

Turning to face him, he watched as Oz smiled before going back to his friends. The other man was really unusual but his words were wise and comforting. He turned his attention back to clearing the field, "And makes sure there are no bodies left any where. I do not want this to be made a sight of memories. The battle is over. All of the dead will be given a decent end. They were once good beings before they were corrupted by the evil of Sauron. We will give them the honor and respect they deserve. Then, let us journey home. The time for war is finished. It is time to live and renew life."

654321

Aragorn and his company rode into the White City, surrounded by well wishers and happiness. A mingled group of humans, elves, and dwarves gathered, all in varying states of grime and tiredness. It was obvious that the battle had raged all over, from the borders of Rivendell to the plains of Rohan, from Lothlórien's Wood and beyond the Gates of Mordor.

The battles had been hard fought and very long, sometimes the strife had been months - even years - long. Not a soul there was untouched by the tragedy, it showed in their faces. Full of relief and yet, a knowledge that they still lived in dangerous times, they were still willing to fight for their freedom for there was a different energy to it now. Hope was born in their lives again for they now had a leader capable of inspiring loyalty and unity in all races and nationalities.

Cordelia stood waiting for him with Boromir and Lord Elrond outside the main hall. A cool look stared down at him. "Greetings, my Lord Elessar. Your people and this, your White City, has long waited for your return," she smiled, a slight bite to her next words, "Though it was far longer in coming than anticipated. You have tarried long in your own shadow for a long time, my Lord. Are you now ready to be a man and rule your people as you should?"

Looking her straight in the eye, he lost awareness of all that surrounded him. It was as if, in her dark brown eyes, he could see the future spreading out before him. For the first time, he did not see it as a cage or a dead end.

He saw the possibilities for goodness, for rebirth, and for renewed life. Contrarily, he saw the opportunities for violence, for betrayal, and for bloodshed. The very fine line he would walk had never been so apparent. It passed in a moment, like dew on the ground, though the sight remained. He recognized the gift for what it was and felt gratitude for it.

It was his reminder, his burden. To be a man was to have - at times - a nature that warred with itself. But he could overcome it and do the best he could with what he had. He was a man, like Boromir and Faramir, like Xander, Giles, Gunn, and Oz - yet, that did _not_ mean that he was weak or destined to fall.

The choices he made would define him, "I am." It was amazing at how liberated - and yet, bound, he felt by saying the words.

"Then turn to your people and make your promise known," Cordelia commanded, shoulders slumping only slightly. The burden on her had finally left. Stepping back to where Boromir waited, she left him completely alone.

While more comfortable with who and what he was, it still took him a moment to compose himself. To turn and address his people, full of confidence that what he was doing was right and true. Looking at his people, he felt the love grow inside of him for them all. They were his, faults and flaws and goodness and kindness. And he was theirs. In his mind, there was no more doubt. Low and clear, strong and true, he promised to never leave them again for this was his home and these were his people.

"_Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn´ Amber-metta_," he spoke them reverently, not in defiance as Cordelia had done when she had first appeared. And, unlike Cordelia, when he opened his mouth, the words of the vow were sung.

Once the ancient vow had passed his lips, he prepared to give them more than just an ancient vow. But his words were silenced before they could even be spoken. He winced as his ears began to ring with a high pitched wail and he hoped that the elves in their midst were spared from the agony of the sound. Looking about, he could see that he was not the only one who heard it. Though the faces below him were panicked, the people held steady, following his lead.

His eyes then went heavenward and noticed a faint pinprick of light, heading towards them. "Gandalf?" he asked, noting the look on the Istari's face. It was as if he was seeing something new, something he had never seen before.

"I do not know but it is not evil. I believe this is a gift from the Valar," he finally replied, his voice almost lost in the panic of the people who had heard his first words and reacted.

Aragorn waited a beat before stepping up the stairs, "Will everyone _please_ calm down for while Mithrandir does not know what it is, this he does know - it is no threat to us," his voice carried over the crowd, noticing when the anxiety eased, though it did not dissipate. "Whatever it is, it is from the Valar."

Tension increased as they watched this strange light approach at an ever decreasing speed. All eyes remained focused on it. Its brightness faded, softened, and the shape itself became smoother. Xander felt his mouth drop, his eyes focused intently on it. A dawning hope came into his face and, right or wrong, he pushed his way through the crowd. Something told him that it would land in the center where the least amount of people was.

"Xander, what is it?" Buffy asked, making to stop him.

"It's Willow," he said. "Guys, it's Willow!"

The sheer conviction in his voice carried enough weight that they believed him. It never occurred to them that they should question or doubt him. Of them all, he knew her best.

By the time they reached the hobbits and the Rohirrim, the light was human shaped and quite dim. It landed at the top of the stairs and rolled down, becoming more physical as it did so, finally coming to a stop because Aragorn kneeled down and stopped it with gentle hands.

"Hello, Willow," he greeted her and pulled off his long cloak, wrapping it about her newly born, naked body.

Eyes that were so filled with light met his, a smile crossed her face as she touched his cheek. "I like you better clean shaven," she murmured.

"You can see me?" he asked, rather astonished.

"Mhmmmm, and you seem to like seeing me in your clothes," she said.

"Well, you seem to need them since you constantly lose your own," he gently teased her. "Do you think you can stand up now? There are a few people who want to see you and I really do not want Faith or Buffy to hurt my human guard."

It was weird being this close to her as she performed magic once again, watching as his cloak became a dress. "I'm ready now," she held out a hand, silently asking him to help her up. "Cordelia, Boromir," she greeted them, bowing respectfully.

"You need shoes," Cordy said, bowing in return.

"Hey, Willow," he greeted over Willow's startled laugh.

"Back from the dead not even five minutes and I'm already getting a fashion lecture."

"Well, you need it more than anything else," she retorted, "Especially as you've interrupted a long awaited coronation ceremony. I even got Faith to dress up for this - even Xander looks passably good."

Rolling her eyes, she turned about and saw them, barely being held back by the guards. Sprinting down the stairs, she practically leapt over the guards and into the arms of her friends. "Hey, guys!" she said, hugging them. "You look fabulous."

"With Cord as our fashion Nazi, was there ever any doubt?" Faith wryly asked.

"Home?" Connor asked hopefully.

Taking him from Fred, she nodded, "Home, my little bear. As soon as this is all over, we're _all_ going home."

"Nice - now can we please finish this? I want to go back to a world where people wear color more than once in a while," Cordy said, her foot tapping the ground impatiently.

"Sorry," they shouted in unison, making their way back into the crowd. "Boy, she's still cranky - and she's getting some," Faith muttered. "What is _her_ childhood trauma?" she finished, appreciating the irony in saying that.

"She's Cordy," Xander pointed out. "Just because she's got the ring doesn't mean she's going to change."

"It is good to have you back, Willow."

"Good to be back, Wesley," she smiled, resting Connor on her hip. Linking their hands together, she glanced up at him, "Really glad you're coming home with us."

"Eyes?" Connor asked, staring at her and seeing her look back at him, clearly for the first time he could recall.

"Not fully," she answered, knowing what he was asking. "When we get back, I'll need glasses."

"Wow, they healed your sight?" Dawn asked.

"Not entirely," she said, shaking her head. "They wanted me to remember that I have limitations - or something like that. It was long winded and I wasn't quite coherent enough to understand what they were talking about. I think I was still in absolute, complete, and total utter shock that I was going back."

After the ceremonies had finally finished - to the cheers which drowned out Cordy's triumphant and rather twenty-first century yell - they went inside. "Willow," Sam yelled, leading the hobbits her way. Amid hugs, his head shook, "You really like your crash landings, do you not?"

She laughed, remembering their first meeting. "Yes, I certainly seem to. Though quite honestly, I blame the landing entirely on Aulë. He promised me a grand and rather startling entrance, Gimli," she answered the question before it was asked.

"It sounds like something he might do, lass. And it is still startling when you do that," Gimli good-naturedly complained. "After Gandalf's return, I should not be surprised by anything but I am by this. Why are you back?"

"Yes, that is a question I wish to know the answer to as well," Gandalf said. "For I can clearly tell that you are no trick."

"Bleached guy, you go away. This isn't any of your business," Faith said.

"I cannot understand what I have done to earn such rancor from you," he protested.

"You lost your sense of humor and your humanity," she replied. "Two things which helped you relate to us."

"Kinda makes you relate to Scaryman, doesn't it?" Buffy added, elbowing him to the side and away from Willow. He may not be bad but she didn't trust him near her friends. "Humanity – was that not one of the things you said Scaryman lacked?"

"Guys, be nice," Willow scolded. "I met many of those in the Blessed Realm - or whatever its called. With the exception of Aulë, Estë, and Ulmo, they were _all_ rather distant and what we would think of as being harsh. Gandalf still appears more human to me than they. If not for Lúthien's song which softened their hearts towards me, I would still be wandering the world, my soul unable to return home, to our world's land of the dead."

"What do you mean?" Giles asked.

"Does that mean Angel's trapped?" Buffy asked. Faith and she exchanged anxious looks, "And Lindsey and Tara? Not that I really care that much about what happens to them."

"No, they're fine. I was trapped for two reasons. The first is that I died, still holding onto Sauron. It was the only way to make sure he really died." Eyes closing momentary, recalling her agony, she took several deep breaths and relaxed, letting it pass.

She leaned into Xander's arm, thanking him with a smile. "The second is that I let them - except for Lindsey so that Wolfram and Hart wouldn't have possession of his soul - take my path home. I felt bad for them, especially for Tara. She was caught up in a bad situation. She did the best she could with what she had available to her, as anyone would."

"So, Sauron's really gone this time?" Faith asked. "Not to doubt Red here but this guy's tricky. They thought he was gone before."

"According to the Lord of All, the Ilúvatar - yes. Sauron is truly gone. It was ultimately His word and will that I return. But…at a lesser rank, kinda," she sheepishly added.

"Meaning?" Oz asked into the stunned silence.

"I'm no longer a _sidhe_," she shrugged, as though it meant nothing to her. In one sense, it was nothing. She had never really had a chance to come to terms with her real identity, having only recently learned it. But in another way, it was scary.

Magic at that level had always been a part of who and what she was. To be without that familiar net…It was a scary, uncomfortable thought to her. "The only way they could restore me was to send me back as an Istari. In our world, I'll just be a plain, old witch. The last of my great magic will be expended healing the breach between our worlds so that there will be no accidental arrivals."

"What else?" Xander asked, noting the way she looked away from them slightly. He could _always_ tell when she was leaving something out, she got far to still.

"There may be some magical backlash that I can't control. I may even lose it," she admitted.

"But you won't disappear or die once we get home, right?"

"No, Xan, you're stuck with me," she said, chuckling just a bit.

"No one else I'd rather be stuck to," he grinned.

Laughing, she shook her head, "I said _with_."

"Same difference," he shrugged. "As for the magic, who cares? It's you who are our friend, not your magic."

"Can we leave now?" Cordy asked.

"Not yet, I have to talk to Scaryman," she stopped and shook her head, amused. "I can't believe I just called him that. I mean Saruman."

"Why?"

"The Valar believe that, even now, he is worth saving. If he is willing to tutor me until I am able to control what I have and go about as the gray wizard, then he will be restored unto his own power. He will gain redemption. So, I need to ask him if this is something he desires and is willing to do," she said.

Cordy groaned at the thought of spending yet more time in the land of the fashion challenged. Honestly, what _do_ they have against color?

"But if Wesley is willing to send you to Albion, he can do so," she said. "As some of us were not sent here through evil manipulations, that same amount can return home. That way, the balance of power will start to be repaired."

"I'm staying," Buffy firmly said. "I met the scary guy before and you aren't seeing him without my back up."

"Hate to bail on you but I really need to have my side seen to by my doctor," Gunn winced. "Lord Elrond's great but if they don't have a record of my wound and something happens to it, I could be in serious trouble."

"Connor and I shall go home," he said. "So, I can take Gunn and Cordelia. Boromir, are you going to join us?"

"What of Fred?" he asked, knowing that she was the last member of the group.

"She's actually fulfilling our bargain with Bain, telling him of our world," Xander said, seeing her walk towards them and moved to the side. Once she was within earshot, they brought her up to speed.

"Take my place, I don't mind. This is the first time I can go out and about, not worrying about being ambushed. This world is just wild, far better than the last place I visited," she enthused, "Sorry I didn't get to see you arrive. I heard it was quite a sight."

"Yup, I landed completely starkers in front of strangers and friends," she nodded, flushing brightly at the memory. "It was great, though I have to say not one of my better moments at all. At least, when I'm in control of myself. I'm sure I had several cringe worthy moments while I was being a warlord trying to conquer the world. And look, I got another Aragorn original to wear."

"Huh?" Fred blinked, not understanding the reference at all.

"She has a definite fondness for wearing my clothes," he smiled when he said this.

"Whoa, squirrel boy can _**smile**_."

"Faith, it is _**King Squirrel Boy**_," he corrected, haughtily looking down at her.

She blinked before a snort of laughter escaped her, "Good one."

"I have been saving it," he replied, unbending once more.

"Majesty, why do you allow the redhead who viciously attacked Lord Faramir and killed Lord Denethor and so many others to remain?"

"Imrahil, this is Willow - and she is not the one who did those deeds. While I will not deny that her body performed the actions, it was not her choice. The one in full control was Sauron. To punish her for his actions is unwise and unfair."

"How can you be sure?"

"I know Willow," he said. "I felt Sauron's presence in her. The Ilúvatar himself gave her life again. If she was truly evil, He would not have done so."

"He forgave Melkior and Sauron for their traitorous deeds against Him. Against His plans," he reminded him.

"Which only shows us that we should do the same for others in need," he pointed out. "We should forgive and grant another chance to others for that is what we would want after we make mistakes. Are we to pray to Him and yet, not do as He has done?"

"It is true? Is she here?" Faramir's voice rose above the din in the room.

Taking a deep breath, Willow stepped around Aragorn, shaking nervously. Her hands were folded in front of her. "Yes, she is. Lord Faramir, I cannot tell you how…_oof_!" she exhaled her breath as he embraced her.

"I was so worried when I saw you in that room, so bitter and aloof - and obviously not yourself. Then, I heard you died. Knowing how painful that darkness is, how confusing it was for me - and I was only touched by the Nazgûl - I cannot begin to imagine what you were going through under the reign of Sauron," he hugged her tight. "Are you all right?"

Teary eyed, she nodded, "Yes. Thank you for forgiving me."

"It was not you," he said, then added with an understanding smile when he saw her mouth open to protest, "Entirely. Even though there was a small part of you involved, ultimately, it was Sauron."

"Though I know the reason why pains you, you'll make a great Steward. You give great advice, which is something that Aragorn - or Elessar as I guess I need to call him - needs," she said as they finally parted. "Shouldn't you still be in bed?"

"If I lean on you, might I be allowed to stay?" he teased.

"Of course," she slung her arm about his waist and pulled his arm around her shoulders. "Comfy?"

"I was kidding," he said.

"No you weren't," she contradicted him, guiding him over to where her friends were standing.

Faramir shook his head, "You are a marvel."

"I only reflect all I've learned," she replied.

The End, kind of…

_Author's Note: Now, here's the part where I really begin to feel like Tolkien for this is the beginning of the end – all three or four of them_.


	29. The Beginning of Many Endings

They rode up to the dark tower of Isengard. Willow looked up and up…and up some more. "He lives here? I've changed my mind, we can learn to live without indoor plumbing, right?"

Faith scoffed, "No. We can't. Get going, Will, just because he lives in a tall, dark, and creepy looking tower doesn't make him a tall, dark, and creepy dude."

"Generally, people reflect the places they live in," Xander unhelpfully pointed out.

"Ever seen the building the Watcher's Council hangs out in?" Giles asked. It was mostly a rhetorical question because Buffy would have told them of her one and only visit there.

"Did you _have_ to bring them up?" Buffy moaned. "I _hate_ those guys."

"They are in charge of the world right now," Oz quietly reminded them. looking directly at Willow. Though she didn't want to, she met his look evenly.

"Right," taking a deep breath, she got off her horse and made her way across the path she'd cleared in the water. Up the stairs, she went. Reaching the door, she grasped the knocker and let it fall, hearing the dull sound it made.

The door finally opened and she took an involuntary step back. The man looked worn and tired, eyes dull with sadness. His white beard and clothes were streaked with grey. His long hair was tangled, hardly brushed. Though he was clean, he did not look well. Obviously, he had not bothered to take care of himself since he had lost his position.

"Have you come for your revenge then?" he asked, voice weak and raspy sounding.

"Revenge? For what?" Willow asked, heart going out to him. "No, I have a message from the Valar for you."

He stumbled back, shocked by her words. By the utter sincerity and kindness in her expression, so at odds with the face he had observed once as she had flown over the tower on the fell beast. "This is some trick of yours," he denied. "The Valar would not think kindly upon me after what I have done."

"But they would, they have," she protested, "Did they not forgive one whose errors were more grievous than your own? Why, then, would you think that they would not consider you kindly? Even the wisest make mistakes for all that we may wish we were immune from it - we are all living, breathing, sentient beings. They offer you another chance, why do you not believe in it? Why do you not take it? Will you let pride and fear keep you from your home and all that you truly care for?"

"And they say that it is I who has the ability to persuade even angels from their paths," he murmured. "What must I do?"

"You mean you'll do it?"

A smile crossed his face at her incredulity, "I did ask what they required of me. It was not lightly spoken, young one."

"Oh, wow, gee," she flushed under his amused look. Momentarily, there was a sparkle in his eyes and she could easily see the charming man he once was. "I didn't think you would agree so easily, sir. Um, well, I was told that you could teach me about my powers."

"What else?" he asked, noticing the way she looked down. "This news cannot be any worse than Sauron returning to full power and winning the war, my child. It was a very frightening wake-up call to have him in my home, showing me what I had to look forward to if I continued down the path I was walking along. Gandalf tried to warn me but I did not listen. Now, I am ready to listen and learn. So tell me, what else do they ask of me?"

"For you to leave the safety of this tower and what you know to live among mortals, to learn from them. To serve them in their need, even if doing so leads you to the places where the poorest beings dwell," she took a deep breath. "You cannot become Saruman the Brown for that place is ably filled. You would be known simply as Saruman the Gray for that is a place that is needed still."

_It could be worse_, he thought, hiding a frown. And he acknowledged that a lesser place was better than being trapped for the rest of his life. "So, I shall have my staff returned to me?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I'm sorry. But you have to earn it this time by hard work and genuine, not in it for anything, good deeds. What you do has to be done in sincerity of heart, taking yourself out of the equation. Only then will you regain what you've lost. Sorry," she repeated, picking up on his feelings anyway.

"What have you to be sorry for? I am the one who failed in my task. I believe that I am wise enough to admit that. Well, let us be on our way," he stepped outside, blinking in the bright light. It had been quite some time since his eyes had seen any natural light and it took him a moment to reorient himself to it.

"Did you not have a servant?" she curiously asked, though she was secretly relieved upon not seeing Wormtongue with him. All the things she had learned about that weasel played in her mind. Her skin itched as though he'd been crawling all over it the same way he had Éowyn's. But inside, she also felt guilty. Did he not deserve to redeem himself from his own mistakes and errors?

"Grima Wormtongue and I parted ways over a disagreement regarding my betrayal of Sauron. He did not think I was wise in telling Gandalf of your capture. Or rather, he thought I should have done some bargaining instead of telling him outright. I, on the other hand, felt no need to prolong the inevitable."

He followed her, studying her casually. She was not what he expected when he heard of the _sidhe_ and wondered if he had been mistaken. Though, most likely, something had happened to her. He could not say for sure whether he was disappointed at not meeting a real, live _sidhe_ – or relieved that he was not meeting one.

"Why did you tell him?" she asked, watching as he stared at the horse. A somewhat apprehensive look on his face. "Go ahead, she's one of the more gentle horses and I doubt you've ridden in a while."

Saruman wondered if he should admit that he had _never_ been on a horse. In order to delay the inevitable, he answered, "I felt it was the best choice to make under the circumstances. If I had my choices of executioners, I would prefer it to be someone who would be merciful when they killed me rather than prolong my torment as I know Sauron would. At best, I was hoping to be left alone if Gandalf and his allies had won."

"I owe you my thanks then. Somehow, I know that things would have been far worse for us all if I'd been held longer by the Nazgûl King. You've never ridden before, have you?" she asked, head tilted to the side.

"I never had a need before," he replied, somewhat testily. "My call may have been to help mortals but there were others who were called to travel and serve among them. I was supposed to acquire knowledge and distill it about through them."

"Before this, most of us had never been on a horse," Xander said. "We _all_ had to take crash courses when Glory came to town."

Faith grimaced, "Those stupid knights, messing with our cars, made it a necessity."

Willow helped him up, smiling as she patted the horse's nose, "Just relax. If you're to nervous, you'll never be able to control her. Now, I'm Willow - obviously. Off to the right we have Buffy, Dawn, and Xander. On the left are Faith, Oz, and Giles - say hi. Up there is Spike. Guys, this is Saruman, my new mentor. And we're going to teach him about humanity…and stuff."

"Should I be worried about the vague stuff you intend to educate me about?" he asked, wondering how – exactly – he was supposed to ride the beast. It was very uncomfortable and no matter how hard he tried, he could not relax. Not to mention, the saddle pushed and pinched places he did not think should be touched at all.

"Hmmmm, this is not going to work," she said, "As for the stuff, nah, just you learning a few things about being human. Surviving in the world without the aid of the help you've always had at hand, nothing terrible."

"Then I suppose that I shall just have to trust you," he said after a moment. "What are you doing?"

"Levitating you slightly above the saddle until you learn how to sit and control her," she replied as if that should have been obvious.

"A sore butt ain't gonna kill him, Will," Faith commented, watching them hawkishly.

"Besides, he's got to learn to deal with pain and discomfort of the body. It's part of life," Buffy added.

"Still, he doesn't have to learn it at once," she smiled mischievously. "And I seem to recall doing the same thing for you two far more often than I ever did for the guys or myself."

"It's easier to jump into battle when you're not fully on the horse," Buffy defended their actions.

"Sure it is," she laughed, her merriment sounding rather strange in this place that until recently had been the place of war and death. Of betrayal and heartbreak – and utter destruction – Saruman felt it run up his spine and soak into his skin, filling him with something he did not understand.

But the land remembered happiness and reached out for it, already seeking to repair the damage brought about by his actions.

"Let's go," Giles said, not wishing to get into this right now. As glad as he was to have them back to normal, he wanted them to be normal at _home_, not here. "We promised to escort the hobbits as far as Rivendell. And I have already told you that we need to go because the information regarding the spells to get us home are in the library there."

Buffy made a face, "I still don't want to see more elves. Galadriel was creepy enough."

"These ones aren't like the Lothlórien elves," Oz quietly promised. "They are far warmer and much more adept at being around humans because they live closer to human populations, so they aren't distant."

"Still elves," she said.

"What are you going to ride?" Saruman asked, watching as she walked slowly beside him until she was sure he was more comfortable riding.

"My horse," Xander said, having watched her to judge when the right moment was to help her. Extending his hand, he helped her get behind him. "Originally, she was going to ride with you but you are far taller than we expected."

"Which is strange since we've met the bleached wonder," Dawn finally spoke up, breaking her study of him. "Speaking of which, why do you look like him if you're not related?"

"To whom are you referring to, Miss Dawn?" he asked, watching them before gently nudging the horse forward. For a moment, he did not think she was going to move now that Willow had left but she did and he was able to keep pace with them.

"Gandalf," she replied, _no duh_ tone firmly in place.

Saruman had the oddest feeling that he had better get used to the sound. Travelling with them, he would most likely be hearing it an _awful_ lot. "I have often heard that we look alike but never noticed it. Why do you call him the Bleached Wonder?" he curiously asked.

"Ask Faith," she shrugged, "She started it."

"Just because I started it doesn't mean I'm explaining anything," she said. "He can figure it out - since he's so smart." Clicking her tongue, she urged her horse forward and into the lead beside Oz.

Willow and Xander rode beside him. "Are you doing okay?" she asked after a while, watching his face. There didn't _seem_ to be anything wrong, but one could never be sure. And she sure wasn't going to make snap judgments anymore - especially about anything from or in this world.

"This could be more comfortable but on the whole I am all right. I am going to be sore though, am I not? Even though I am partially lifted off of the saddle."

"Until you develop the necessary muscles, yeah, you will," Xander nodded.

"And how long will it take to do so?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Oh, a couple of weeks at least," he said, taking no joy in it. "It all depends on how much you practice. Considering you live here and this is the only major form of transportation, you'll be fine."

"Thank you, I think," Saruman said. "Miss Willow, you seemed adept at using your magic before your death, why do you need a teacher now?"

"Because I am ignorant and therefore was very stupid in my use of magic. The Valar sent me back because I helped defeat Sauron. Well, kind helped defeat him," she sheepishly admitted, "So, I have to learn to be more aware of what I am doing. I have to learn to respect the powers I've been given and the source they come from, to stop robbing them and to not abuse them as I have in the past."

"I am supposed to teach you all of that? That is one tall order," he said.

"I'm sure you're up to the challenge," she sighed and shook her head. "I just doubt that I am, especially while here. Even though I've been _demoted_," she made finger quotes around the word, "My magic is still far too easy to touch and use. The temptation is always there."

"Did you think that it would go away just because you died?" he asked, stunned.

"I was kinda hoping it would," she shrugged. "Dumb, I know. But it certainly would make things easier."

"You are _gifted_ - that means things _cannot_ and _should not_ be easy for you. Power is _**not**_ supposed to be easy because, as you and I have learned to our detriment, it will corrupt us. It appears that just having power will corrupt you if you let it," Saruman ended thoughtfully.

"Saruman, might I have a word with you?" Giles' question came once they had finished setting up camp. He had observed Willow and the Istari working together over the past few days, with wary suspicion. While he had seen no sign of foul intent or anything resembling an attempt to manipulate Willow into evil actions, he did not trust Saruman to be truly repentant.

"As you wish," Saruman excused himself, having expected this conversation to happen earlier. Sighing, he joined Giles, wondering what he was going to say to reassure the man. Of course, he was still not sure of his own intentions towards them.

As much as he wished to get his place back, this was turning into far too much work-and hard work at that. Teaching the girl was challenging him both mentally for she questioned him about _everything_. She had a quick intelligence, a definite bonus for she did not bore him. And challenging him physically for they were on the road constantly and when they were not, he was teaching her exercises in control, then he also had to make up mental and emotional exercises that she could perform while physically working out.

And then there were her friends. They were downright irritating.

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"What kept you?" Aragorn asked, looking up as they joined them. "We did not think you would make it.'

"It's my fault," Willow admitted. "I was sorta practicing and ending up splitting the landscape in half. Oh, don't worry, nothing was hurt. But I still had to put it back together perfectly. We're still not sure how I did that since that power should be gone, probably some residual powers from before. Giles is hoping that by the time we get home, all of that will be gone for good. Burned out, so to say, because my having all that power just isn't good for anyone, least of all me. You know, because we are fighting on the Hellmouth and there is just to much chance to be corrupted - or recorrupted since I've already been corrupted and you can't be corrupted anew when you've already been corrupted, you know? Is recorrupted a word? Anyway, we came as fast as we could without hurting…I'm talking to much, aren't I?" she asked, finally noticing the amused looks she was getting.

"I never actually believed it when they said you babbled," Aragorn said. "It is a highly distinctive character trait."

"Go ahead, say it," she teased, "You know you want to."

"I do?" he teasingly asked.

She rolled her eyes, "Of _course_ you do. But I'll be happy if you don't."

"Well, I suppose you cannot help being what you are," he paused, looking her straight in the eye, "You know, cute."

Sitting down, she playfully swacked his head, "You're such a dork. Have you been waking long for us?"

"About a day," he shrugged, rubbing his head. It had not quite healed. "My counselors were reluctant to let me go but I pointed out that there were others in my kingdom who needed to see me. People I needed to reassure and there was someone I needed to pick up."

"Lady Arwen?" Willow asked.

"No - nor the Lady Éowyn," he replied, seeing Buffy's look. "I figured you would not want to travel to Dale to retrieve Winifred, so I did. I also come bearing messages from Queen Idis for you, Buffy."

"Oh? How is she?"

"Regretful that she will not see you before you leave but she wishes you well. She also hopes that you have found an answer to your dilemma," he finished.

"If you chance to see her again, tell her that I have indeed found it," she told him, wishing not to go into it. That was something between Idis and her.

Gandalf and Saruman stared at each other, each taking in the other's appearance and measure. "You know some very strange people," Saruman finally said.

"You would know better than I for you have traveled with them for far longer than I was able to," he replied.

Saruman hesitated, looked at his student as she joked and laughed with her friends, then back at Gandalf. "They are soon to leave and I will be alone. Would you stay for a time and help me?"

"I wish that I could, old friend, for nothing would please me more. However I cannot. There is a terrible burden weighing upon me that begs for release," he hesitated, "I shall stay a year with you, no more. For you must learn to stand on your own. Nevertheless, I shall help you if I can."

"Thank you," Saruman said, sitting down beside the fire, but distancing himself subtly from the others. Though he had become more used to the presence of other people, it still felt odd and unreal.

Thus it was that he was the first to hear the piteous crying in the shadows. Fully aware that he would not have been the first to hear it if Oz, Spike, or Legolas had been with the group instead of off getting firewood.

Rising, he made his way slowly towards the sound. A figure was huddled near the ground, staring their way. Staring hungrily at Willow and his mind instantly connected this thing to the creature Gollum. Though he could see him before him, his mind struggled to take in the reality that it still lived, even though the strength and power that had given him that longevity was long gone.

"Saruman?" Willow called out, "Is everything all right?"

"There is something I think you should see," he said, not really answering her.

A puzzled frown crossed her face but she rose and willingly joined him, "Oh. You poor thing," her heart twisted inside, reaching out to him. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she reached out and laid a hand on his head. "How can I help him?"

"You cannot," he softly said. "There are just some pains and some wounds that are to deep for healing. Sauron's Ring has touched and cursed him in ways that cannot be erased, no matter how sincere the desire is."

"But we can't leave him like this," she protested, "We just can't."

"Do you intend to kill him out of mercy?" he asked, wondering if she would be able to bring herself to do such a thing. He did not think she was capable of it - but then, he had been wrong before.

"I did this to him," she whispered.

"Nonsense, child, that devilish _Ring_ did this to him. His obsession with regaining It, with claiming It when It was first found, did this to him. You did not make him take the Ring, nor did you force him to seek It out when he lost It," he said, kneeling beside her though his muscles pulled and protested.

Resting his hand on her shoulder, he gently shook it until she faced him. "This creature had every right to refuse the Ring, to turn away from It. We know that it can be done. He _**choose**_ not to do so. It was a choice _**he**_ made and one that twisted his mind until it was no longer his own. That had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the Ring."

"But my altering the Ring," she started to protest.

"Ultimately did nothing to him," he interrupted her firmly. "Only Sauron profited from your actions, my child. The only one who really gained anything was he. This poor wretch was lost already to the Ring's power and evil."

"How can I believe that when I caused so much damage and pain?" she asked.

"I cannot tell you for only you can choose to see or not see the truth. This is something you must just believe. It is not a matter of logic but a matter of faith," he slowly came to a stop, surprised at his words. These were not things he had ever thought to hear coming from _his_ lips. If not for the fact that he could tell them for the truth they were, he would wonder about them.

They sat in silence for a time before she nodded, drawing a deep breath. "You are right, Saruman. But merciful or not, we cannot just kill him. If not for his actions and choices, Frodo and Sam would never passed through the Gates of the Watcher into Mordor sagely. They never would have destroyed the Ring and Sauron's last hold on this world if I had not been able to gather _**all**_ of him into me."

"Then you wish to transform him from this creature into another one? One with no knowledge of the Ring and Its hold upon him?" he asked.

"I wish to give a fresh start, yes," she agreed. "A new life, if you will. Would you teach me how to do this? I've heard of transfiguration but I've never been able to figure out the whole process out."

"Even Gandalf could not teach you that for though Maia we are, our magic has been practical. It is not like yours at all," he told her, his tone matter of fact.

"You would need to seek the wisdom of a certain elder - one far older than Saruman or I. One who predates even the elves, Beorn. Or, if such a thought unnerves you, then you should seek after our friend, Radagast the Brown for he has understandings that we do not," Gandalf's voice gently infused itself into their conversation.

"Is this true? Can either of them help?" Willow asked.

Saruman grimaced, "Radagast is a simple man with no guile or deceit. Yet, if one needs aid for a creature who has more animal than human, it is to Radagast that I would go. He has ways about him that I do not understand – and I admit that it was my own stubborn folly that allowed such a distance to come between us. But he loves animals and cares for them and their ways. If this wretch is to be healed, I think Radagast is the better choice. Beorn is not fond of human company and I am not sure he has the patience to heal one such a he."

"Where is Radagast?" she quietly asked, but before Gandalf could answer, she leveled a glare at Saruman. The Istari almost jumped back and away from her in fright, it was way to reminiscent of Sauron's look. "And this _wretch_, this _creature_, as you call him, has a name, it is _Sméagol_. Use it for his fate is what ours would have been had the Ring been in our possession and using us. Stop being such a cold hearted bigoted idiot."

Saruman gapped at her, "What did you call me?"

"You heard me - you do not need to hear it twice," she snapped. "You are _not_ an imbecile, do not think that I am one."

"I offer my sincerest apologies," he said, almost stiffly.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," she coldly informed, "Even if he doesn't understand the words, he'll know you're talking to him."

Feeling extremely awkwardly - and more than a little annoyed - he looked at the quivering _thing_ under Willow's hand. Big, rather soulful eyes stared at him and he was struck with a sense of pity and a deep understanding that _this_ could have been him had events not played out the way they had. "Sméagol, I am sorry. We shall get you help."

"Radagast can often be found in Rhosgobel, on the western edge of Mirkwood," his reply was rather hushed and stunned. In all his life, Gandalf had never heard _anyone_ talk to Saruman in such a fashion.

And he would never have thought the redhead would be the one to do it. If he had been a betting man, he would have lain odds on Faith or Buffy.

"Mirkwood is out of the way, Willow," Oz said. "We would be adding several days onto our journey."

Willow gnawed her lip, "I can go alone if you wish to go to Rivendell and wait for me to arrive. But I can't leave him like this - and I won't."

"You aren't going anywhere without me, Will," Buffy stated, "To many bad things happen when we separate."

"I'm game," Faith said, looking up from where she was cleaning her knife. "Be kinda interesting to see where Legolas has come from."

"Do you honestly think I would let you meet my father," he said without looking at her as he dropped his load near the fire.

"What's wrong with me? I've met both head scary lady and the perv, why not your dad?" her head titled as she stared at him.

Legolas sat down and started to restring his bow before looking at her. Though he was tense, he did not hold back on his words. There was the slightest chance that they would run into Thranduil. They should all be warned for his father was not like him, "Nothing. I would not want to scar you. My father is a good leader but not exactly what you would call a people person."

"So, are we all going?" Xander asked, just to make sure they were clear on their change in plans.

"Sure, I'm up for seeing other places around here," Dawn shrugged.

"Well, I have to meet your family some time, lad. Might as well be now when I have friends I can flee with."

"Your father is not that bad," Aragorn said.

"No, he is far worse," Legolas corrected them both. "But if you really wish to go, I will try my best to make sure that your visit is comfortable."

"We cannot," Frodo reluctantly said, though he wished to meet Thranduil and see if he was anything like Bilbo had said. But they had to get home. The longer they delayed, the more Gandalf's words preyed upon his mind.

"I'll take them home," Oz offered, gently stirring up the fire.

"I can go with you," Fred offered. "If you'd like the company."

"Sure," he nodded.

So it was that the group reluctantly split up the next morning. Faith was especially grumpy because she was hoping to spend more time with Oz. But she didn't want to go with him, not wanting to spend more time with Elrond and his family. They had not parted on the best terms.

The journey took them a few days more than they originally planned, mainly because of Willow's many, _many_ accidents. "You know, lass, if you had been healthy before, we would have been far worse off than we were," Gimli observed, pipe in hand. In the air, a circlet of smoke curled, joining the ones made by the hobbits.

She hid her face in her arms, listening to the nightlife chirp about them. Her shoulders were slumped inwards, kinda hugging about her body. "I know. I'm utterly inept at this," she groaned, a slight laugh escaped her lips.

"Not inept," Aragorn corrected her, coming to sit beside her. This was familiar even if most of those with him were strangers, he loved being out here. "You are just trying to hard – which makes this far more difficult than it should be."

"When did you become a Zen-like Oz?" Willow asked, staring up at him.

"When he gave his task to me," he smiled at her. "He figured you would miss it while he, Spike, and Fred took the hobbits on to Rivendell. Legolas?" he asked, noticing the elf's stiffening posture.

Faith and Buffy rose, but did not reach for their weapons as they usually did. While they were tense like Legolas, they did not feel the need to be armed - mostly because he was not. After traveling with them, they had learned to trust his instincts as easily as they did their own – especially since he was right about things more often than not.

"There is a party approaching," his voice sounded rather flat to their ears, something none of them had expected. It said a lot to Aragorn about who was joining them.

Into the clearing stepped King Thranduil. Though his hair was a deeper shade of gold than Legolas', it was easy see the family resemblance. "Legolas, why did you not return home once the Ring was destroyed?" he asked, not even acknowledging those with him.

"My task is not yet done, father," he quietly replied, feeling rather than seeing Gimli take a small step closer to him. Relief and calm filled him for he was reminded that he was no longer alone, he was with friends. "It is good to see you once more, father. May I present to you my companions? King Elessar is well known to you, as is Gandalf – now known as the White. But I do not believe you have made the acquaintance of Gimli, named elf-friend by the Lady Galadriel. Nor do I think you have ever met Saruman, now called the Gray."

He paused, waiting as they bowed in his father's direction. This was the tricky part, introducing his father to the strangers. Taking a deep breath, he moved to the side and gestured to the Slayers first. They, at least, would be the easiest to explain and accept. "Now, these are our human allies from another world, Faith, Buffy, and her sister Dawn Summers. Alexander, though he prefers Xander, Harris, Rupert Giles, whom you may have met through Gandalf years ago. And Willow Rosenberg, she is a student of both Giles and Saruman. May I introduce you to my father, Thranduil, the King of Mirkwood. Accompanying him is his personal guard."

Thranduil studied them all with suspicious eyes, even Gandalf was not immune from his intense look. But, unsurprisingly, his most vicious look was directed at Gimli – and Sméagol, which was why Saruman took the poor creature off for a walk. "I remember your father," he finally pronounced "You bear the look of him."

The words, _there is not much I can do about that_ wanted to escape but Gimli resisted the urge. "My father well remembers you," the reply was said guardedly, for want of something else to say.

"Probably with distinct prejudice," he said, almost baiting the dwarf to respond in kind.

Gimli did not rise to it. There was no need for the ready response in mind, _is there any other kind between our races_? For the words would now be a distinct untruth for two elves were close to the dwarf's heart – one of whom stood right there.

"Is all well in your kingdom?" Gandalf asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that held the group in suspension. The last thing they needed was to revisit old wounds and dredge up the past.

He snorted, "My home has been utterly wrecked and many of my children injured because of an unprecedented attack upon us. I wish not to discuss such things among strangers. King Elessar, I hope you sent that shrew on her way with a flea in her ear. She was most unpleasant."

"Shrew?" he repeated, eyes lightening up as he made the connection. And, really, was there ever any doubt as to who Thranduil could have been talking about? "That shrew, as you call her, saved my people and my kingdom from the darkness eating away at its heart and soul. It was because she took over the affairs in Gondor that she was able to keep Sauron and his forces occupied. She bought us enough time to defeat him."

"I do not care. The woman was a shrew and knew nothing of treating her betters with respect."

"Obviously, she went to the same school of manners as you did," Willow dryly commented. "Are you always this callous and rude?"

"No. Oftentimes, he is ruder," Legolas said.

"We will talk about your attitude at home," he repressively said. "As for you, young lady, I do not think anyone asked you for your opinion."

"They didn't have to," she shrugged. "It isn't like you and Elessar are having a private conversation or anything."

"And that's our friend you're trash talking," Faith snapped, ignoring the disbelieving looks Buffy sent her way. "If anyone's gonna get away with dissin' her, it's us, you obnoxious snot."

"I thought Oz said only Lothlórien elves were cold and rude," Dawn half-asked, looking between Faith and Xander for they had spent any amount of time with that particular group of friends, though she recalled meeting Haldir.

"That isn't what he said," Buffy replied. "But I have to say, these elves are rather snobbish and inconsiderate. This Elrond guy is going to have to be near perfect in order to change my opinion about the entire race. Cause right now, I could care less about the lot of them and wonder why we bothered to save their necks."

"I should probably resent that remark."

"Why? You're no elf, you're Legolas," she said, as if that explained it all.

"Oh, I see," and he supposed he did. It was just one of those peculiar beliefs they had. He had spent far more time with them on this journey than before and had come to terms with them. In a manner of speaking, that was, for they were still an indecipherable group of people.

They were all insane. But that is what made them work.

"Keep your insults to yourself," one of the elves said.

"Why? Kingy here doesn't feel the need to keep his nasty mouth shut," Faith retorted, just itching to hurt them.

"Faith, why don't you and Buffy patrol the area?" Giles' suggestion was more order than a question. "There are still dangerous foes out there."

"Right," Buffy drawled. "We'll go productively direct our anger somewhere it'll do some good." Aragorn followed after them. Not that he thought they would need help but because the situation was becoming tenser than he felt comfortable dealing with. Faith snorted but followed them.

"You send mere girls to do a warrior's job?"

"No. I sent the _Slayers_ to do their job," he mildly corrected, seeing Thranduil's eyes widen at that. Giles vaguely remembered the elf lord sitting in on one of the many meetings where the Council of Wizards had discussed and debated what his curriculum was to be. Of course, he had been far nicer back then. What had happened to change him?

"They will be fine, Tinwelint," Thranduil intercepted his head guard's reply easily, revealing that he recalled more than a few things spoken about Giles' world. "How long have you been here? Were you ever planning to visit my home, Giles? I do recall inviting you to come more than once."

"A few months, give or take our startling arrival at various stages of the journey," he replied, recognizing this version of Thranduil. "As for the second, truthfully, I had not even considered the possibility of visiting. I had heard several distressing things about you. I did not think that we would be welcome and I would not leave my family behind."

"This is your family? This…this mangy group of youngsters?" he asked, disbelief apparent in his light blue eyes.

"Family is family," he replied, only slightly irritated with his attitude. It was something he had been expecting for the group he hung out with now was far from ideal. "And I prefer this one that I have made over the one I was born into. For they rejected me constantly because of the way I handled my life and choices, never wanting me to be anything but what they desired."

Thranduil shook his head. "This I do not understand. If a new family is what you desire, why did you feel the need to choose these young…people? Why did you not marry and create your own?"

"Because they need me," he simply said. "And I need them."

"Giles, we _love_ you," Willow said, hugging him. "You like our quirks."

"Willow, I like you. I merely tolerate your quirks," he corrected her words, hugging her back even as he saw Thranduil step back, horrified shock on his face. It was clear that he had finally _seen_ her. While she had stood in the background, the shadows shaded her from their eyes. But now, she was exposed by the firelight and the light of the stars. He cursed Sauron even as he asked, "Are you all right?"

"Is that not Sauron?" he asked. "I clearly remember seeing that face at the head of the orcs who stacked the woods. She killed many good soldiers, many good people."

Arrows were knocked and aimed, Giles instantly put himself directly in front of her despite her objections. The fear she felt was palpable, hanging in the air. Xander made a forward motion but Dawn's presence at his side stopped him – for the moment. The girl could not be left undefended. "What are you doing?" Giles asked, even though it was obvious what was happening here.

"That girl is a menace," he said. "If none of you will destroy it, I will."

"Sauron possessed her, father. These crimes may have been committed in her body but they were not her own. They were done by Sauron himself," Legolas moved forward, joining Giles and creating a living shield in front of her when Gimli joined them.

"Then it has been tainted and needs to be neutralized," Thranduil maintained. "If there was something in it worth possessing, then it is dangerous to us. For all we know, Sauron may still reside inside of it, sleeping for a time like he did before."

"_**Enough!**_" Gandalf roared, cutting the argument off before it fully developed. He had the feeling that he had done this before and the memory threw him for a moment. "The girl stays unharmed."

"I'm starting to feel like a package," she quietly said to Gimli.

"He does not mean it like that, lass."

"You think not?" she retorted with a wry look. "I wish I felt that way."

Thranduil stared at Gandalf in shock. "How can you protect it when you know of the danger that Sauron brought to our world? Through her?" he added.

"Protecting her is the right thing to do," he stoically replied. "Thranduil, you are no fool. Why are you condemning her so needlessly when you realize the truth?"

"It was because of her attack that my two youngest children were lost. The last connection I had with my beloved Finallë and she stole that from me," he finally said after thinking over the question. His men had yet to lower their arms and Giles exchanged looks with Xander and Dawn. Fearing that if this stand off didn't end before the Slayers came back, there would be bloodshed.

Willow pushed forward, "Giles, I knew this may happen at some point. You can't protect me from what occurred while Sauron made free with my body and my powers. I may not have done those things _**but**_ I created the situation that made it possible. If he wishes me to pay with my life, I will submit to his will."

She faced him, "I cannot give you back your children or heal the pain you feel at this moment. If you need me dead to help you move past the grief, then I will not resist, nor will my friends."

Thranduil took another look at her as she stood before him, a thoughtful expression on his face. Well aware of the opinions and judgments of those around him, he would not rush this decision. He could not. There was too much at stake. The girl was a dangerous liability, no doubt about it.

By her own admission, she had created the situation that brought her to Sauron's eye. It was her body and power that Sauron had used. She admitted to some culpability in what followed. "What did you do?" he curiously asked, "To create such a stir in the Dark Lord that he would actually care to take you over?"

"I misjudged his Ring's power and will. It used what I did to entrap me. Before he took my body, he used my power to temporarily take mortal form. The Ring created a link between us, Sauron used that advantage to figure out who and what I was – and what I was capable of."

"Just what are you?" Thranduil gasped, utterly aghast at her careless attitude over her actions revealed by her words. "What are you that you can speak of trapping powers so easily, as if it was a small trick?"

Willow glanced uneasily at Giles, then at Gandalf, wondering what to say. Their stony expressions gave her no insight. Finally, she went for the truth. After all, there was no point in keeping it hidden when there were so many others who knew it. "Before I died, I was a _sidhe_. After the Valar returned me to life, I took upon the mantle of _Istari_. Well, rather, the title since I'm not actually of that Blessed Race."

Thranduil made an abortive notion with his hand, unable to wrap his mind around her calmly uttered _before I died_. The way she said it, as if it was a normal, every day occurrence was rather appalling. "Put your weapons down. I have to think," he ordered. "Come here, girl."

"Father, has she not been through enough?" Legolas could not stop his words from escaping though he tried. There was something in his father's eyes that said he meant her no real harm. His father was doing his duty to both his people and to himself, even if it was the less popular thing to do. It made him grateful that he was one of the youngest in the family and not a direct heir. He could not do this.

"She said she would submit to my will," he reminded them, adding ironically, "With no objections from her family and friends. I do not think that I am in the wrong in asking her to approach me."

Willow stepped towards him slowly, keeping a wary eye on his men – especially the one he called Tinwelint. "Yes?" she asked, stopping half-way so that she was alone on the field between them but not easily trapped by them. The last thing she wanted was to be held in a hostage position.

"Closer, I refuse to continue this discussion in such an uncivilized manner," he ordered. But he took a few steps forward himself so that he was alone – after glaring at Tinwelint to back off. The guard did so, a highly resentful look on his face.

Taking a deep breath, she joined him. Bowing respectfully before him, she waited for his next order.

"You are smaller than I remember you being," he finally said, rather struck by how different she seemed now.

"I think Sauron preferred to loom over others and changed accordingly," she quietly admitted, glancing up at him.

"Would you join me at my home while I decide what to do with you?" he asked, almost challenging her resolve.

"As you have said, your majesty, I agreed to submit to you will," she started to say.

"That is not what I asked," he irritably said, clearly unhappy to have his words thrown into his face.

"I wish you'd make up your mind," she snapped, glaring at him. "First, I am condemned to die outright. Then, I'm in the role of petitioner, arguing for the right to live. Now, you want to invite me into your home as though I am an honored guest. Am I to be judged by you or not?"

Thranduil held up a hand, stopping his men from rearming themselves. His blue eyes studied her, a faint glimmer of laughter in their depths. The girl had spirit – and had not used her considerable power to end this game between them. It could be a trick but he felt – deep in his heart – that it was not.

She held herself in tight check. But even so, her power trickled out of her, barely contained. Whatever else she was, she was honest and forthright. If she was to live, she wanted it to be a decision he made without her interference or control.

"Miss. Rosenberg, tighten your shields to the highest degree and disperse your irritation immediately. This behavior is regressive, not progressive and will not be tolerated." Saruman's voice cut smoothly through the rapidly rising tension.

"He started it," she muttered rebelliously even as she started her relaxation techniques. It was only Saruman's arrival that made her aware of just how close to the edge she had teetered. It was an uncomfortable and painful reminder of just how much work she had left to do in order to regain full control of herself.

"That is beside the point," Saruman chided, coming to stand with them. "Would someone care to explain to me what is going on?"

"If someone will explain why this traitor is roaming free," Thranduil replied, voice completely blank.

"My redemption in not going to be easy, is it?" he murmured, meeting Thranduil's eyes. "I was given another chance by the Valar. A chance to do the job I was given."

"It might help if you didn't think of it as a job," Xander called out. "When people think of jobs, they think of an obligation or a chore. And there is no joy to be found in that. If you want to do the best you can, you should want to enjoy what you are doing."

"But if I think of it as a calling, I will fall prey once more to arrogance," he said, rather reasonably he thought. But he was also sure that the young man would think of something else to say.

"Well, you _were_ called to serve," he said, a slight smile in his voice. "So, think of yourself as being a servant to all, instead of a higher being called to lead the way."

Thranduil cleared his throat, "Excuse me for asking but what is going on?"

"Are you really sure you wish to know?"

"I am sure enough that I will even invite Gimli to be an honored guest in our home," he told Legolas, still keeping to an even tone of voice. "Please, accept my hospitality for the evening."


	30. Or The End of Many Beginnings

Buffy, Faith, and Elessar returned from the rear, hearing the invitation. They were highly aware of the tension underlying everything for it sent shivers up both Slayers' spines. "So, what's up?" she asked, figuring it wouldn't hurt to act ignorant of the emotions running rampant.

"We've been _invited_ to Thranduil's home," Dawn replied, specifically looking at Buffy, making air quotes.

"Invited or ordered?" she muttered, having missed the look. Her gaze watched the group on the other side. The fire burned her face, mirroring her inner turmoil.

"Does it really matter?" she asked. "We'll be going either way. Sméagol, don't do that. How long do you think this will set us back?"

"A couple of days. Why?" Buffy asked, facing her sister. "Tired already?" She had noticed the way the Dawn slumped in the saddle as they had travelled over the past few days, almost despondent. It was getting harder to wake her up in the morning and she seemed to drop off once she stopped moving. It was highly worrisome because no one else seemed to be feeling the same way.

Dawn nodded, hating to admit to her weakness to Faith and Buffy. Yet, if she didn't and something really was wrong with her, they would all be angry at her for keeping secrets from them. "I think this land affects me like it did Glory. I know you hate to hear it because I have Summers' blood in my veins, but a part of me will always be tied to her. That has to mean something, doesn't it?"

Faith and Buffy exchanged looks, "It would be something to look into, B."

They looked towards Giles, seeing him conversing with the wizards and Thranduil. It looked like their talk would continue for some time. Hopefully, whatever it was they were discussing would ease the tension they felt. She didn't think she could take much more of the heightened emotions floating about.

"Later," Buffy decided, knowing that it had to be done. Dawn was right. If there was something of Glory in her, they had best figure out what it was – and what to do about it before it turned against them.

She would _not_ lose her sister like she had her mother if she could do something about it. "Why do I have the feeling something really bad happened while we were away and we won't want to hear about it?"

"Because we have eyes," Faith replied with a smirk.

"Well, I could take Dawn to Rivendell," Elessar offered, waiting to avoid any further confrontations. "I need to speak to Elrond about a few things. As much as I wish to continue with you for I have fond memories of Radagast, I have already delayed my return long enough. My people are probably worried, even though Faramir is a loved and capable Steward."

"Don't sound so thrilled," Faith said. "And I'll go with you. I miss Oz."

"Will you at least stay the night?" Buffy asked.

"Of course," she said. "And don't worry, I'll ask Giles if there's anything Elrond can do to help Dawn."

"Why would he be able to help?" Dawn curiously asked.

"He's the one who figured out that Willow was no witch but a _sidhe_," Faith said.

"Yeah, what is that anyway? I mean, Lindsey mentioned it, so I figured it had to be something important if Wolfram and Hart knew about it. And didn't do a thing about her," Buffy said. "So, what is it?"

"And you thought I had name issues, you do not even know the truth about your friend," Elessar commented, looking at Faith, laughter lurking in the depths of his eyes. There was a lighter air about him now that the burden of destiny had been lifted from his shoulders.

She shrugged, "Isn't our fault. If Will had known what she was, she'd have told us."

"Shall we adjourn to my home?" Thranduil's voice interrupted their conversation, keeping one eye on Willow and a wary one on the Slayers. He kept silent, recognizing the creature with them, once more uncomfortably aware of his story and their failures in keeping him locked away.

_What kind of people was his son associating with anyway_?

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In the early morning of the next day, after bidding their friends a fond farewell, they sat in Thranduil's private study. Saruman was absent for he had also left, far earlier than the others and had been seen off only by Willow and Gandalf. He rather appreciated the quiet farewell, with only the two people there that he was fond of – albeit only one of them was expected, the other was a surprise.

"Until I return with Radagast, take care of her, old friend," he paused, a slight smile on his face. "It is no easy task that I am giving you. She is quite a handful. You may find yourself cursing my name before the day's done."

"You'll miss me and you know it," she smiled and hugged him, ignoring the way he stiffened in surprise. "Take care of yourself, Saruman."

"I will take care of her," Gandalf assured him, a slight laugh in his voice. In all his time back from the dead, he did not think that he had ever enjoyed himself so much.

"Thank you," he replied, stepping outside. "Come along, Sméagol. I think you shall be far happier with me, than staying here."

Sméagol was only too happy to follow after him. He had very strong and unhappy memories of this place and the beings living there. They disappeared into the early morning light.

Gandalf looked down at her as she looked up at him, "Are you always so wildly demonstrative?"

"Yes," she smiled widely, looping her arm through his and pulling him along. "Come on, we're supposed to eat with Faith, Dawn, and Elessar before they leave."

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Gandalf sat back, allowing Giles to handle things. Willow stood slightly behind him, her uncertainty was very obvious in the way she kept shifting her weight from foot to foot. He was only grateful that they had been able to dissuade Buffy and Xander from joining them. Legolas was on his father's right, clearly unhappy by both his place and by Gimli's marked absence.

Thranduil listened as Giles recounted their story, starting from the roots. The very beginning of it all – Glory's arrival in his world and all the events that she had caused, both there and here. His eyes continually darted back towards the girl in question, noting that the shadows did not seem to like her. It was something he had not expected of the woman possessed by Sauron's very malignant spirit.

Once Giles had fallen silent, he could hear the quiet murmurings of his men. Painful though it was, he could not hold the girl accountable for what had happened. While it was clear that she had some culpability it in, she was not responsible for it. "Come forward, Miss. Rosenberg," he softly called, noting the way she jumped.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped around Gandalf and stood before the king. "Yes, your majesty?" she asked, kneeling before him.

"You are free to go, fearing no retribution from my people," he said, adding, "Be more careful in the future of what you do."

A wide smile crossed her face as she rose, "I will. Thank you for your kindness and forgiveness, sire. You are a fair minded and honest ruler."

She bit her lip to prevent any more words from escaping, hearing Giles' relieved sigh in the still room. Whether it was because of the judgment or that she didn't babble on, she wasn't sure. "Should I be hurt that you had so little faith in King Thranduil's wisdom? Or did you sigh in relief because I managed to keep my mouth shut?" she asked him.

"I trusted him. You, on the other hand, I was not so sure about," he replied, keeping a stern expression on his face.

Willow laughed, "Giles, you're terrible."

"And I love you too," he smiled, opening his arms to embrace her.

"No, duh. I keep telling you that," she rolled her eyes at him good naturedly before yawning and resting her head against his shoulder. Momentarily her eyes closed before she pushed away, "Well, I've got some practice to do, so let's go outside and begin, Gandalf."

"What?" he blinked, shocked by the rapid change in her expression.

"You're my teacher while Saruman's gone. I have a schedule to maintain or I will slip up and falter. All you need to do is help me run through my control exercises and meditation techniques," she paused, thoughtfully adding, almost as though it was an afterthought. "And make sure I don't do something stupid."

"Should we not wait for Saruman to return?" he uneasily asked, not sure that he was ready to be thrown into this.

"Of course not, sir! If we wait, I lose balance and time in learning to control my magic. I have to practice with someone more experienced than I am," she said, walking over to him. Her tone was brisk as she spoke, almost lecturing him. "Giles can't do it, he's not an Istari – which I am now. Or something like one anyway. Saruman asked you to take care of me, that includes teaching me and watching my back. It's the only way to protect everyone form my accidentally storing magic and causing backlash, both deadly and highly volatile.

"I believe that was one of the reasons things got so out of hand before with Sauron, though it probably started before then. I wasn't careful and mindful – I had powers and used them whenever I needed to in order to help others. But in a sense, it was more about me and what I could do. I was arrogant, the practice keeps me humble because I keep falling on my butt. And it's hard work, making it really worth it – and it stops me from being careless with what I have because I have to work hard to things right."

"Willow," Gandalf finally broke through her speech, "You had me when you reminded me of my duty to you."

"So, let's go," she started towards the door. "Tell the gang that I'm all right. You know they'll be worried. Thranduil's a great guy – even if this was partly an excuse to see what Legolas' new friends are really like."

"Father?" Legolas asked, turning to face him, a shocked look on his face.

"The girl is insane," he replied, "But correct."

Legolas sighed, shaking his head. "You could have just asked me. There was no need to put Willow and her friends through this."

"There was every need," he mildly replied. "A need Miss Rosenberg understands – and spoke of – as well."

"I do not think I will ever understand you."

"I am King and protector of my people first, father second," he pointed out, rising to his feet and walking out into the hall. "As such, many of the things I do seem harsh and unjustified but they are necessary."

Legolas followed him, "Have I ever thanked you for taking me out of the line of succession?"

"No, I do not think so."

"Then I will do so now, father. Thank you," he said. "I am going to find Gimli, there is a promise I need to keep. I shall see you both later."

Thranduil and Giles walked in silence for a time before he cleared his throat. "My son has lost his mind. I blame you for it."

"Actually," he smiled. "I think he _found_ his mind. And I cannot take credit for that at all."

"My son made friends with a _dwarf_. How is that finding his mind?" Thranduil asked, looking at Giles incredulously.

"Prejudice is such an ugly thing, sire, and to learn to look beyond such foul judgments is to find a better way to live," he mildly retorted. "Besides, Galadriel herself named Gimli elf-friend. Are you saying that she is less than sane?"

Thranduil sighed, "I am not going to win this, am I?"

"No," he simply said.

"Then I shall say no more. Tell me, how long will you be staying with us? Or do you wish to leave now that the judgment has been given?"

"As Saruman has gone to see Radagast, we will be staying at least a day or so. I haven't actually thought about making any plans, so we shall talk once Willow's lessons are finished."

Thranduil studied him, "You seem happier to have your Miss Willow under Gandalf's watch than under Saruman's. Do you have reason to doubt his sincerity?"

"Nothing I can name for he is trying to change. I just don't know what to think of him. It may also stem from the fact that I know Gandalf and how he works. What I know of Saruman is only those things that I've been told. It is hard to put aside that knowledge and just judge him based on what I'm seeing," he shrugged. "I just find it easier to trust her with someone I actually know."

"And yet, here you are, lecturing me about prejudices," he softly said, seeing Giles' head nod slowly after a time, showing that he understood and heard the soft reproach.

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The party arrived in Rivendell, tired and hungry, but safe. After getting Elrond updated as to the state of events, they made their way into the dinning hall. Spike being the lone exception. He walked to the bridge and looked out at the forest, silent as he contemplated all that had occurred after departing from Rivendell.

In the place he thought of as his heart, there was pain resting there. Though it was only a few short months, it felt like several centuries had passed as the weight of all they had done played in his mind.

Taking the ring he'd removed from Angel's finger, he stared at it, uncomfortably aware of the loss echoing inside. His sire, the one who taught him every thing he knew – and some things he wouldn't have dreamed possible – was gone from his unlife. And he – Spike – had been the one to do it. The loss twisted deep inside, cutting him to the bone.

Hate and despise him for not being true to himself, he might have – but he also fiercely loved him. Angelus had been next to everything to him and that haunting shadowy presence was gone now. How did one move beyond that?

Was even there a way to?

Before when this happened, he'd had his most adored and worshipped Dru by his side. He'd been able to focus all of his grieving energy on her. Even then, there had been the knowledge that Angelus was out there, somewhere. Now, she'd thrown him aside and left him to his own devices. He wasn't mawkish enough to kill himself but that truly was the only solution he could think off.

The ring twirled in his fingers and he longed for a good smoke. A real good one – with the tobacco that gave him a buzz and numbed his raw senses enough that he didn't have to think beyond the next puff to escape his lips, "Pathetic," he mumbled, staring at his reflection. "You're becoming a sentimental old sot, Spike."

Arwen watched him, strangely upset by his pervading melancholia. A melancholia that poisoned the atmosphere around him. Yes, the loss of Angel had been terrible but he died heroically. "Why are you not inside, celebrating the end of the war?" she finally asked, walking up to stand beside him.

Jerking up, he stared at her, berating himself for being several thousand kinds of stupid for not being more aware of everything around him. "Jeeze, lady, think you could give a guy a warning before you sneak up on them?"

To ward off any attempts to converse after asking such a dumb question, he quickly went on, more than a little bitterness in his voice. "What's to celebrate? That the war is over? That the bloody Ring is gone? Well, hooray! Jolly good show in defeating that rotter. Too bad about all that death to friends and loved ones, silly to even mourn the loss. They died for a good cause."

"I am sure Angel fought valiantly," she tried to console him. But there was a pervasive feeling of helplessness inside her, a feeling she had become acquainted with while living among men in Bree. "He was a mighty warrior."

"He died because Red got possessed by Sauron. Using what he found about each and every one of us, he found the most dangerous tool hidden under the weakest of facades – Angelus, the Scourge himself. He released Angelus – and I killed him before he could do any real damage. Bloody fine hero's death, wouldn't you agree?" he harshly asked, seeing her flinch away from him.

"If he had become a danger, then you did the only thing you could. You did right," she quietly said, feeling even more so that the words she spoke were hollow and, in some strange manner, facetious.

"Just because it was right doesn't mean its easy, lady," he retorted. With every word he spoke, he felt some of his bitterness lifting and being redirected. "Whether right or wrong, I killed my sire. The souled vampire you met was _not_ my sire. The demon was."

Arwen was silent for a time, studying his profile in the starry light. The unsteady lighting highlighted the cold and unnaturalness of his face. In that moment, she saw what the other elves did about him – he was a living statue. Before, there had been some sense of soul, of heart within him. Now, he was as dead inside as he was supposed to be.

"What are you going to do?" she softly asked.

"What I do best," he answered, drawing in a deep – and unneeded - breath, "Survive."

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"How long do you think we are going to stay here, Merry?"

Putting his drink down, he though about it for a moment, then shrugged. "I do not know. Hopefully long enough to say good-bye to our friends. I guess it depends on how long it takes them to get here."

"Why did they not come with us like we planned anyway?" Pippin asked before taking another forkful and lifting it to his mouth. It was suspended as he said, "It was not their job to take care of Gollum. I mean, Sméagol," he automatically corrected himself, knowing that Frodo felt a connection to the creature still.

"They could not leave him in such a state," Frodo quietly said. "Any more than you could leave a small animal trapped, Pippin. Pity is not something that is to be exercised only under bad conditions. It is not something that should be a random act, like when Uncle Bilbo first met him."

"I guess," Pippin said. "I merely wondered."

"Why?" Sam asked, their conversation breaking into his thoughts at last.

"I just cannot get Gandalf's words out of my mind. Remember, Merry, when he saw all those supplies at Isengard? When they talked and Saruman surrendered the palantir, they never addressed it. They never even talked about it when he decided to take up Willow's offer," he answered. "I worry that he has an ally back at home and I fear what we will find when we return."

"In all the excitement that followed, I forgot about that," Merry admitted, pushing aside his food at last. The hollow feeling inside was gone but he didn't feel able to eat anymore food. "Should we leave tomorrow?"

Frodo shook his head, "That would be a bad move. If we leave in haste, we will hardly be prepared should there be any danger. If Saruman had an ally back home, by now he – or she – would be in a prominent position. We need to have more knowledge of what is going on before we make any decisive moves."

"You should talk to Arwen," Elrond's soft voice broke into their conversation, his face was contrite. "I am sorry but I could not help but overhear your words. May I?" he asked, indicating the empty seat beside Sam.

Sam obligingly slid over, making room for him. "Lady Arwen, why should we talk to her?" He flushed instantly, realizing how the words sounded only after they had been spoken. "I am sorry, Lord Elrond. I meant no offense."

"Fret over it not, my young friend," he smiled at him, not offended. "You could not know that she left Rivendell shortly after you did to live among humans, to see if she could truly spend her life among people she knew so little of. I believe that it was because of some wise counsel she received from the recently departed Angel. He spoke words to her that I – with all my wisdom – could not. In him, she found one who could offer a point of view which I lack. While I missed and worried over her safety, I thank him for doing so."

"He will be missed," Sam observed, thinking of the poor, fatherless Connor. Though he was aware that the boy had been raised by Wesley, he had still lost his father.

"Where did she go?" Pippin asked, learning forward and resting his chin on his hands as he looked at him attentively.

"The village of Bree," Elrond said. "As much as she wished to be in larger city, she admitted that she should start out small. Besides, I wanted her to be close to home in case something terrible happened. I wanted her to have a safe haven to flee to."

"How did she like it?" Merry asked, stifling a yawn. Even after resting for so long, he could still feel the aftermath of the Witch King's attack. As worried as he was about his family, he was grateful for the chance to rest and recuperate.

Elrond studied him even as he answered the question. As much as he wished to send him to bed, he knew that Merry would not want to miss out on the festivities after all he did to help them feel this freedom. He did wonder if it would be all right to just set a bench for him to relax upon. That way, he could enjoy the evening but be comfortable enough to drift off if necessary – Bilbo did it often.

"She has been quiet about her experience," he admitted. "I think she was partially distressed by what she found and yet, the lives mortals live intrigues her. I do not believe she has come to any conclusion, which is a good thing since she only lived with them under conditions of distress. Truly, I think she is quiet because she has come to no conclusions about her decision and it unnerves her. Arwen is a decisive woman, to not have any answer that settles her completely is a new feeling for her."

"Sometimes the only way to make accurate judgments about people is to see them under bad circumstances," Oz commented, coming up to them. "I wish to bid you a good-night. Thank you, Lord Elrond, for a wonderful evening."

"The night is still young. Are you sure you wish to retire?" Elrond asked, concerned eyes studying the younger man. Though he did not appear injured, one could never tell with the weapons that were used. And he had a different nature than others.

"I'm just tired," Oz's reply was simple. "I have travelled greater distances in my wolf form than I ever did at home. There is also the fact that I have been exposed to far more power in these past few weeks than I am used to. Since my body has been sorely tried, I wish to rest and recover."

"A wise idea," Elrond said, relieved for he could see the strain around Oz's eyes. The boy was wise for his years. "Your rooms are still the ones you had earlier."

"Thank you," Oz bowed and turned to leave.

"If you can wait for a few minutes, I think that I will join you. An early night would do me some good," Merry said, swallowing back a yawn.

"Sure," Oz said, sitting down when Pippin moved to the side.

Elrond cleared his throat, "There is a question on my mind which I hesitate to ask but feel that I must before anyone else brings it up. And I greatly fear that they will, so you must pardon me for asking. What really happened to Master Angel? While I do not know Master Spike well, he seemed to be more upset by this death than is warranted."

"That is don't know," Oz's reply was quiet. "When they returned from Mordor, successful, Angel was dead. I have my suspicions though. Though I do not know if this is true, it is my opinion that Sauron released Angelus – and they killed him. Or rather, Spike did. I love Faith but I don't think she has the strength to do it."

Elrond nodded, appreciating the fact that Oz did not hold back. It could not have been easy for him but he was grateful to know the truth. "I will tell my people to be discrete and ask no questions. Have a good night," he added, seeing Elrohir gesturing for him to join him. Rising, he made his way through the assembled groups, wondering what could possibly be wrong for his son did not look happy.

Marry and Oz left minutes later, leaving the other hobbits to their own devices. As they sat there, Frodo glanced up and saw Arwen enter. "Lady Arwen," he smiled when she joined them. "We missed you at dinner. Are you all right?"

"I am well," she smiled at him, sitting down. "I was merely visiting Spike."

"How is he?" Frodo asked, having noticed a change in him. The vampire seemed far older, more saddened, from the loss of his sire. He seemed far more burdened than before – even the way he fought and reacted to things was different. If what Oz believed was the truth, than it all made sense.

"His spirit seems unwell," she hesitated to say more. What he had spoken to hear had been said in confidence, though it had been unspoken. She would not tell anyone what had passed between them. If he wished it known, he would speak of it.

Spike was far from shy about speaking his mind.

Come to think of it, those she had met were rather blunt – especially Faith. Even Oz – with all of his softness – had a definite way of speaking his mind. When he spoke up, even the elves were more inclined to listen to him. "Were they successful in finding Xander?" she asked, redirecting the conversation.

"Yes – and the mysterious Buffy as well," Sam added with a wry grin.

"Oh, my," Arwen's hand covered her mouth. "Did she indeed do what her friends say that she would? Is the Lord Boromir no longer with us?"

Frodo smiled, a laugh flowing out of him. "Well, he is not in Middle-Earth anymore but not because of Buffy. In one of our battles, he was grievously injured to the point of death. In an attempt to save him, Angel turned him into a vampire."

"What?" she gasped.

"It is not what you think. To be honest, Boromir is a different kind of vampire. And it is not an entirely bad change."

"Does that not truly make him her enemy?"

"As long as he does not kill an innocent, he will retain his soul. The Lady Lúthien said as much to me and Gandalf," Pippin said, finally done with his meal. "I know that your father has many celebrations in store starting tonight but I will not be joining them right now. I am tired. Good-night, my friends. Lady Arwen," he stumbled out of the room, rubbing his eyes.

Sam was watching Frodo carefully. "He has a good idea. If you do not need me, I am going to go to bed myself, Master Frodo."

"Go ahead, Sam. I will join you in a few minutes," he said.

"Good-night, Master Samwise." Once he was gone, she turned to Frodo, a slight smile on her face. "Am I correct in thinking that you have something to ask me?"

Frodo nodded, only slightly surprised. "Your father says you were in Bree. Did you hear any news of the Shire? We were warned by Gandalf that things at home were not as we left them."

"Hear any news of the Shire? Oh, yes. There was much that I heard and experienced while away. Many cowards fled from the trouble found in their own lands and became thieves and robbers down on the roads from Weathertop and into the Shire. Troubles increased once the Rangers departed to help Elessar and the gates of Bree were shut and locked against them," here she paused and sighed.

Her brow wrinkled in remembrance of the feeling of being trapped and unable to breath. "I am afraid that I almost could not take being shut up and locked away behind those walls. Many is the night that went by when I sought freedom outside once the city was sleepy. The Shire, which I have wanted so to see, I did not go near for the Rangers warned me that dangerous people were dealing there. I am saddened to say that you will have no welcome arrival when you return."

"We leave war behind us only to find one waiting for us at home. Yes, it is as we were warned," Frodo sighed. "As sad as it is to admit, I was expecting this."

"Is Elessar well?" she asked, wishing to change the subject once more.

"Well, he was crowned King not that long ago," he said. "And is in much higher spirits, he will be pleased to see you once more."

"That is what I am afraid of for he will want an answer to his question. I do not think that I can marry him after living behind Bree's walls. I hear that Minas Tirith has even more," she shuddered.

"Minas Tirith is not like Bree, my lady. Do not be so hasty in rejecting life with him because you had one bad experience," he said.

Arwen studied his earnest face, "I do not know if I can do that, Frodo. Elessar has my heart – but so do the woods around me. This life among the woods and the animals is the only one that I know. Living behind walls was a new experience for me, one that I did not find pleasant."

"At least think about it, my lady. There are many different kinds of walls, fear is one of them," he stopped, unable to hold back a yawn. "Pardon me, but I fear that I must turn in myself. The journey here was long and full of as much excitement as when we first left – and not all of it because of danger."

"Then you must go to bed," she enjoined him. "I will see you and your friends in the morning."

"Thank you, my lady" he rose, bowed, and left, meeting up with Sam in the hallway as he knew he would. They helped each other up the stairs and stumbled into their room. "Good-night, Sam."

"Sleep well, Master Frodo," he softly closed the door behind them. As much as he had not wanted to retired before Frodo, he knew that his friends had wanted to speak to Lady Arwen alone. Frodo felt incredibly guilty for bringing this trouble down on their heads and wanted to know how bad it was before they did. Sam did not envy him this burden.

And from the look on Frodo's face when he had joined him in the hall, Sam was grateful he had waited for him. He wondered how the others were doing and hoped their friends would arrive soon, even if they still had Sméagol with them. Whatever was waiting for them at home, he wanted their allies with them in the coming fight.

And yet, something told him that it would be best if the hobbits stood on their own.

A few days later, they heard a commotion as another party arrived. They left their garden and walked to the bridge, seeing Elessar along with Faith and Dawn in what looked like a heated argument with another group. Finally, Elessar nodded, a resigned look on his face.

Lord Elrond joined them, Arwen beside him, both looked mildly displeased but welcoming of the company. Dawn broke away, seeing a familiar face. Pushing her way through, she flung her arms around Spike, hugging him. Faith followed after her, looking for either the hobbits or Oz.

She was not expecting to see Glóin on the stairs, a grin on his face. "So, you did not get killed through idiot heroics. I will make a dwarf of you yet," his laugh was hearty and welcoming to her ears.

"Missed you, too, Glóin," she grinned at him. "Let's get a drink. I need to be around _real_ people."

His widened, "Knew there was a reason I liked you." The two disappeared and Dawn heard him ask after Gimli and the featherheaded idiot he hung out with.

"What happened, pet?" Spike asked, studying her pale face as he joined her. He could easily hear the rapid beating of her heart – far to rapid for a healthy human.

"Got tired and light headed, among other things," she shrugged. "I guess there's still something of Glory lingering in me."

"Where are the others?" he asked, more than a little concerned. Dawn was like a kid sister to him. While she had some feelings of hero worship, she was also not afraid to talk back to him. Spike liked that about her and he didn't want anything to happen to her, not if he could stop it.

She was his lil' bit.

"Back with Legolas' family," she snorted in disgust. "I wasn't very impressed with his dad, he basically put Willow on trial for Sauron's deeds. As for Buffy, she really doesn't like _any_ of the elves."

"She'll like Elrond if only for the fact that he's the most normal acting," he said. "I think the elves have heard about her joking threats towards Boromir and don't get the joke part. So, they react accordingly to what they see as a threat."

"Buffy's not a threat," Dawn snapped, offended on her sister's behalf.

"Yes, pet, she is," he corrected, sounding highly amused. There was definitely still fire and life to her, which chased away much of the tiredness that seemed to be eating away at her. Het, he knew that he couldn't rely solely on anger – justified or not – to help her. "We all are for we are something they cannot understand."

"So they judge us before they meet us because they've never heard of people like us?" she asked. "That's stupid."

"That's mortal," he again found himself correcting her. "Pet, we all judge based on what we know. It's in our natures."

"It's still stupid."

He rolled his eyes but decided not to argue philosophy any longer. It wasn't something he did well anyway. "Let's get you some food. The company may be annoyingly uptight but they do know how to feed a person."

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Elessar nodded, listening to the man with a slight frown on his face. "I promised that I would return after my business with Lord Elrond was completed. Has something occurred to cause this worry?"

"We have heard that Saruman has left his imprisonment," the man said. "The people are worried that he will cause problems for this new peace and wonder what you intend to do about him."

Rubbing his neck, he shook his head. "I will do nothing about him. The Valar sent him a message – and he responded to it favorably. I have travelled the past several days and have seen in him true penance. Still, if it would relieve your minds, I shall return to deal with these fears immediately. I am sorry, Lord Elrond. I shall return as soon as I can to conclude our business."

"I shall join you for I understand some of the situation regarding Saruman. I believe that I can help in this," he quietly said, a smile on his face. It was good to see his son finally at peace in his own skin.

"I shall come with you," Arwen quietly offered, having thought long and hard all night about what Frodo had said. "We need not leave immediately. After your long and taxing journey, you must be weary and in need of rest and refreshment. Please, come inside and partake of a meal while your animals are cared for. They need rest as well."

It was hard to dispute her words and logic, so they followed after her while their horses were led into the stables. Elessar and Elrond watched them go, both wearing contemplative looks.

"My only objection to your union has been dealt with, my son. Why, then, do you still seem troubled?" Elrond asked, following Elessar into the grove.

His hand rested upon the trunk of the tree, studying the leaves above him quietly as though they held the answers to the questions swirling in his mind. "In this moment, I feel different from the man that I was when I left. No longer fractured and disjointed, I feel complete – and confused about what was once so clear."

"How so?" he asked, wanting nothing more than to comfort him as a father should.

A deep sigh escaped him, "My soul has never been so at peace to be a man with all the frailties and foibles that entails. You and Arwen both knew I feared to be a man, to live as one. Now, I have accepted it all and feel stronger for the acceptance. But my feelings for Arwen, the love that has always been inside my heart for her, feels different. In some way, it feels weaker than what I felt before."

Here he paused, gathering his thoughts before looking at Elrond. "And I feel a love inside my heart for another, a mortal woman. No, she is not someone you have met. You need not fear that she is one of the outsiders. It is a woman of Rohan, who in many ways is my equal. The Lady Éowyn, though I should call her King for she is now the ruler of Rohan, Théoden died before he could reinstate Éomer. I feel for her in ways that I never though to feel for anyone else.

"Yet, I still love and adore Arwen. For so long, I have wished to spend my life with her. I never thought to feel any thing else." He rubbed his neck, breaking eye contact, somewhat ashamed.

"This Éowyn, how does she feel about you?" Elrond delicately asked. It was not something he felt comfortable doing, this role of father confessor. It felt almost like a betrayal of his daughter. Yet, Elessar was the son of his heart.

Did he not deserve the very best advice and love that he could offer him?

Elessar shrugged helplessly. "I do not truly know for we have never actually spoken of such things directly. Lady Éowyn has made some implications about her feelings towards me. But it has never been open, never been directed at me in a way that I could truly say that it was love or romantic intention. For she knew that my heart was taken by another and never acted any differently towards me. Though to my shame, I found myself drawn to her side, becoming her friend. I let myself fall for her and encouraged her to believe that there might be a chance for us. There were times when I believed that I saw love in her eyes towards me."

"Does that not tell you of her feelings?"

"No, for I have seen love in Willow's eyes towards me. The same love she has in her eyes for Xander or Legolas or Gimli – even Faramir has such love directed towards him. Éowyn is a remarkable woman, one I could easily stay with. If her love for me is that of a brother, I would be foolish to pursue her, would I not?" he asked him, seeking for an answer he knew Elrond could not truly give him. "Yet, if it was the love of a woman towards a man and I gained Éowyn but lost the love of Arwen – a love that I might really need – where would I be?"

Elrond's head shook, "Truly, mortal hearts are confused and easy to beguile. I can only tell you to rediscover Arwen as she is now for she has changed somewhat since last you saw her. The both of you have learned things about yourselves that has altered your perspectives. You have become different beings. Now, you must learn who you truly are and discover the possibilities of a life together now that the bloom of discovered love has worn off."

Elessar listened, truly listened to his words and nodded, "I understand."

"I truly hope you do," Elrond said, "For it is a dangerous thing to toy with the emotions of a woman – even an elfish one."

Thinking of Buffy's strength because of her friends, the softness in Faith because of her feelings for Oz, the fierce and devoted love Cordelia had towards Boromir, and the sheer lengths or protectiveness Willow had towards everyone, he knew of the truth of Elrond's words.

Even without these women's examples, he knew of Lúthien's true sacrifice for Beren, that his mother's devotion to his father had given her the fortitude to survive what life had thrown at her, and knew that part of the reason Tom could resist the allure of the Ring was because of Goldberry's love for him. A woman's feelings – mortal or immortal – were nothing to joke about.

They could make or break a person.

End, Part 30


	31. They are Loud

_Author's Note: This is my interpretation of Radagast, since I was unable to find a workable description of him in any of J.R.R. Tolkien's works – even the ones published by his son detailing the work that he did on LotR. So, if there is an actual description of him somewhere, I would appreciate being directed towards it so that I can make changes to make this truer to Tolkien's work. Though I think it's absolutely ridiculous to have all the Istari look alike. It just is. If there is diversity among the elfish races, those that are supposed to be the closest in nature to them, why not among the Maia_?

_Author's Warning: This first part made me cry when I wrote it. It still makes me cry but I felt that, at least in this story, this redemption was entirely possible_.

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Of all the people Radagast had expected to see on his doorstep, asking for his help and guidance, Saruman was not – and never would be – one of them. After all the trouble the other wizard had caused, he was tempted to turn him away. But the pitiful looking creature at Saruman's side stayed his hand.

"How may I help you?" he asked, his voice a rough rasp in comparison to the smooth polished baritone of Saruman or the laughing humanness of Gandalf. In hearing him, it was like hearing the earth speak.

Radagast was unlike Gandalf and Saruman in appearance, having a look all of his own, distinct and natural to him. His earthy brown robe blended in with the land he so loved. His eyes were a soft green, like new grass while his hair and beard grew long and wild, unkempt and dark gray like storm clouds. He was tall like his brethren but sturdy with a stockier build than the other wizards.

And when he smiled, it was with his entire soul.

Saruman recounted the whole, sorry tale, from beginning to end and left nothing out for he recognized that total honesty was required here. He did not spare himself in the telling nor any of his actions. It surprised them both when his smooth cadence broke upon the tale of finding Sméagol near their camp and how Willow had pled the creature's case for a new life.

"I have sought you to see if there is anything you can do for him," he finished and fell silent, allowing Radagast time to process everything and find an answer. His hands folded in his lap, though one was ready to soothe Sméagol if necessary.

"I should like to meet this girl and her friends," he finally said, eyes going distant even as his mind tried to think of a solution to this rather unusual problem. In all of his years, he did not think he had ever come across anything like this.

Saruman bit back his natural instinct to snap at him to decide quickly. Irritated as he was by the lack of an answer, he knew that Radagast was testing him. Whether it was intentional or not, this was a test. The fate of Sméagol rested on his ability to be patient and kind.

At last, Radagast nodded. "I believe that I can help him. Unfortunately, I will require the assistance of both Tom Bombadil and Beorn for it involves magic I am still very new at."

"Then shall we make our way to Beorn's homestead before moving onto Tom's? Or shall we return to Mirkwood and pick up my companions before doing so?" he questioned, giving the other wizard the choice. Though he wished to decide the question himself and get this over with, the leading position was no longer his.

Yes, he must learn to relinquish authority to others.

"You say Gandalf is in Mirkwood?" At his affirming nod, Radagast said, "Then we should make a stop there for Tom has always preferred Gandalf's company to my own. I think it is because Gandalf brings in some diversity. But first, rest and get something to eat. I must tidy a few things up before I can travel."

"What of Sméagol?" Saruman asked, entering the small cottage Radagast called home. It was a hodgepodge assortment of elfish, dwarvish, hobbits, and man's design, a look that for anyone else would appear wrong. Yet, in Radagast's hands was cozy and delightfully lived in.

The main area was built underground, all sharp angles before opening up and extending outwards into the woods. The walls connected the trees, leaving room for windows before circling upwards into the canopy where a half-wood, half-thatch roof existed. The smell of the earth mingled with the scent of bark and decaying leaves, reminding him that this was a home where all things cohabitated.

It was infinitely comfortable but not what he was used to.

Looking around, he hoped there was one clean chair for him to sit on. While he had become more adapted to living outdoors, he was not quite at ease there. _Which was probably the point_, he thought. The best way for him to learn was to remove him from his natural habitat and put him in a position in which he desired to change rather than the reverse. If he was contented, he would not really try.

"He can come with me. In fact, he probably should so that I may come to know his mindset," Radagast mused, watching the quirky fellow, somewhat uneasily. "You say that he was once a hobbit?"

Finding a chair, he brushed it off and sat down gingerly. A sigh of relief escaped him when it did not creak and held his weight. "So Gandalf has told us, a river dwelling hobbit," he answered. "But I have very little experience with them. Still, he is to intelligent to be an orc or goblin, far to spindly for a dwarf – and I have never heard of a short elf. As for a man, I doubt even the corrupting power of the Ring could prolong his life that long."

Radagast nodded, grabbing his heavier robe. "Saruman, my home has never been sealed against those in need of my help. Do not be alarmed by any visitors who enter. They are sensitive to emotions and some are prone to react violently," he warned before departing, Sméagol at his heals.

"Oh, that was encouraging," he muttered, before closing his eyes. The weight of the journey and all that had happened before, returned to him with a vengeance. He felt tired, old.

Far older than he ever thought to feel.

The enormity of his task and what he had agreed to do seemed insurmountable. An entire way of living, of believing and acting – and here he was, changing it like a person would change their clothes. Though it was not that easy – he knew that it was not that easy.

As he contemplated it – _all of it_ – he genuinely believed that it could not be done. It just could not be done. He was not a young wizard any longer. It was not as if he felt numerically and physically as old as he was, it was all the years of abuses his actions had added upon his body and soul.

The accumulation of all that had gone before could not simply be erased, washed clean. It was just too much to ask.

"_Why do you doubt? You have changed before_," Ellë said, watching his face carefully.

"Kind one, I apologize if my thoughts have offended you in some way. Yet, I cannot deny that they are there, harboring within my soul. No matter what I do, the past cannot be altered or changed," he said, kneeling before her.

"_Are you saying that it cannot be forgiven? That you truly believe redemption is out of your reach_?" she asked. "_Are you suggesting that your crimes are far worse than those of Melkior and Sauron_?"

"I have created a new life form using my alchemical gifts. The orcs and goblins were already twisted before I did this and I hurt them more. Through my leadership, I have caused those in Rohan to suffer. My greed for the Ring and the power it offered caused me to ignore my duties and my obligations to this world. I created an army which caused two innocent souls pain that haunts them still.

"And, using knowledge gained from Gandalf, I caused upheaval in the land he so loves. People have died because of my actions. I have even led the Entwives astray," he stopped, closing his eyes momentarily. A sigh escaped him as lists of his actions formed in his mind, the effects of all that he had done paraded before him in all their ugly, stark glory. "There are many other crimes that could be laid at my door. That is not something that can be overlooked, my lady."

"_Yet, you are trying to do right, to make amends_," she pointed out, arms folded in front of her. "_If you think your cause is so hopeless, that you are a far worse being than Sauron and Melkior, why are you doing it? We are not forcing you to change, to go out and become a wizard in gray. The position and authority you once had will never return to you for the time of man is at hand. Even if it were not so, you would not regain that which you have lost for you have been an unworthy steward. This world is the world of man, the time is fast approaching when they will no longer need what you have to offer_.

"_So, why do it_?" she reiterated her question.

Saruman was silent, thinking over her words. Why was he? Was it merely because a slip of a girl had spoken to him, had offered him another chance? There really was nothing rewarding about doing what he was doing now. So, the question remained unanswered for there was no easy answer. Why do it at all?

They had travelled through enough villages to hear what the people said about him, about his new companions. His ears burned with the unkind words, the suspicion they held towards them. Utter hostility did not quite cover what emanated from the people. For the most part, it had been directed towards the strangers – most specifically Willow for most people were aware of her role in Sauron's return – and they shielded him for the full weight of loathing.

Something, he knew, would disappear once they were gone. They would leave him soon and he would be alone. For all of Gandalf's words to be there, he would depart as well for Middle-Earth was no longer his home.

Even knowing all of this pain lay ahead, he worked hard to prepare and teach Willow the lessons she needed in order to get home. He did not attempt to keep her back and it was not only out of fear of her abilities spiraling out of control that he did not do this. Knowing what he did of her – and her inclinations – why had he not thought to fear her?

His fear would have been a reason to help her. Yet, it had not even come to mind once, not seriously that was. All he had thought about was helping her because she gave him a chance. Knowing all that she did about him, even knowing that he _knew_ about her and what she was capable of, she took a chance on him. They were both well aware of the fact that she had helped Sauron.

Indirectly and without desiring to do so, yes, but she had helped him.

He had every right to turn her away, to reject her offer. Had it been anyone else, he probably would have done just that. So, what had it been about this girl that had touched him? She had been genuinely shocked when he accepted that offer of redemption and forgiveness.

He had no reason to believe that there was any real sincerity in her offer. For all he truly knew, it could have been a cruel joke upon him. She, a girl he knew nothing about, was standing before him, arms outstretched – sometimes all too literally – asking him to take a step forward, into them and trust in the goodness and sincerity of her offer.

And he had hope because she was there.

Somewhere inside, he had hope that she was telling him the truth. There was hope that he was not as far gone as he thought. Hope, a foreign concept to him, beat inside him that there was truly someone who cared enough about him to watch over him and offer him forgiveness and a new life.

"I have hope," he finally said. "Hope that I am truly watched over. That she was being honest with me, that I am worth something even after all that I have done. I do it because I cannot do anything else."

Ellë smiled, resting her hand on his head in loving benediction. "_Hope is no small thing, my child, but sometimes it is all one has. Hold onto that hope for your path will not be easy, it cannot be as you already know. But I promise you that it is worth it. And, Saruman, you are never alone, even if you cut yourself off from us, we are always with you_."

Radagast returned hours later, startled to see Saruman's wet face as he knelt on the ground, the posture reminiscent of a humble supplicant. The faintest trace of a sweet scent, a scent he could not place but recognized, hung in the air and he was soothed.

Walking quietly past the kneeling man, he prepared a light repast for them before going to pack. Soon after eating, the trio made their way to Mirkwood and those who waited for them. Their walk was quiet but, unlike in the past, there was no disdain or discomfort between them.

However Saruman may have felt towards him in the past, it was gone now and he felt himself more inclined to listen to him. "Radagast, before we go any further, I must say something to you. It is difficult for me but I can no longer be silent I am sorry," he told him, looking him in the eyes.

Saruman could not remember the last time he had looked Radagast in the eyes. In all honesty, he probably never had for he had always disdained him. "I am sorry for my actions, my behavior, for the way that I have treated you and your knowledge. I was wrong to disdain who and what you are."

"I do not know quite what to say," he said. It was one thing to hear him say that he had change. It was another thing to _see_ and _feel_ it. Though he was fully aware of the way Saruman could deceive with words and actions, in this, Radagast knew he was being genuinely honest. "You have changed."

"I know," Saruman softly replied. "And I hope the changes remain long after these lives have gone by the wayside."

"If there is ever anything I can do for you," he offered, trailing off for he was still unsure about how to handle this new man that stood beside him.

Saruman nodded in understanding, "I will not hesitate to ask you. Yet, I will do my best not to cripple myself by clinging to you."

Two days later, Mirkwood's dense forest came into view and they enterec, enjoying the cool shade as they walked along. Several hours into their journey, a beam of light shot past them, followed by a very feminine sounding, "_Sorry!_"

A wry grin crossed his face, "Concentrate, Rosenberg," he called out, hearing a familiar, joyous cry as they entered the shade. This time, he was prepared for the redhead to embrace him.

"You're back!" she said, glancing at his companion curiously.

"Did you think that I would not be?"

"The thought occurred to me, yes. I thought you might have overdosed on us," she pertly replied.

"I overdosed on _you_ five minutes after meeting you. And yet, I am still with you," he dryly told her.

A gasp escaped her, "You're terrible – and I like you despite it."

"You knew what I was when I joined your family," he said, a smile fighting to break free. He nodded to Gandalf. "And I thank you for that kindness. Miss. Rosenberg, this is Radagast the Brown. Radagast, I have the unfortunate duty of introducing you to Miss. Willow Rosenberg."

"Oh, now don't I sound all proper and ladylike?" she teasingly asked, ignoring most of his introduction as she turned to greet the Istari.

"No one upon getting to know you would _ever_ accuse you of such a thing," Saruman informed her. "As evidenced by that adult response," this was added when she stuck her tongue out at him.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Radagast said, smiling at her. "You are not quite what I expected when I heard about you."

"At least, you were warned," Gandalf commented. "Most of us were denied that luxury and thus, meet the full, undiluted version of her."

"You guys are terrible," she mock pouted. "It's no wonder you're all friends."

"Are you actually putting me in the same category as them? I think you are an interesting creature," Radagast protested.

"Thank you, sir," she beamed up at him. "I think I'm going to like having you around. Come on, Sméagol, fair Istari wizards, King Thranduil is going to be delighted to see you both."

"Are you sure of that?" Saruman asked, knowing he was less likely to get a welcome than Radagast would.

"Of course! He'll have another person around to commiserate with over the lack of manners I and my friends have. And he has much to share with Master Radagast," she added, grabbing their arms and pulling them along with her, "Especially since that Beorn guy arrived. You know, he's quite possibly the tallest and biggest being I have ever seen. I suppose that doesn't mean much to guys who've lived as long as you all have – but it means an awful lot to me. He doesn't sleep under the mountain with the rest of us, which I think disturbs Thranduil is some way.

"Of course, he's not taken me into his confidence or anything like that so I'm only going on what I feel. I wonder if he thinks it's a slight against his hospitality. Or is an insult about his ability to take care of his guests should the unexpected occur," she wondered, "Which is most excellent – his hospitality, I mean. Because, quite honestly, I could do without anything unexpected happening. I'm pretty good at causing the unexpected without any outside aid, though I am getting much better at controlling the fits and starts that I've had in the past.

"Anyway, from what I've been able to learn from him, Beorn is just more relaxed out of doors than being underground. I suppose I can understand his feelings, he _is_ a natural woodsman after all. But then again, he does change into a bear and bears seem to be drawn to caves. So, I don't get why he'd be uncomfortable at all. Then again, it could be that in his natural form, he feels claustrophobic. Can one feel differently when in another form?"

She paused momentarily, going on when there was no answer forthcoming, "I guess it _is_ possible if your main mind shuts down. Does that make any sense? Oh, Elessar sent us a message. They arrived safely and Elrond sends his regards. Also, by the time we get there, they will be gone. Apparently, there's some discord in Gondor which is strange because Elessar set things in order before he left. I guess its because they haven't had a king in so long, they don't know how to function with him – or without him.

"They want to be assured that he's going to be there for them. He made a promise to them but until he proves it with his continual actions and presence, they won't believe its real. Things are changing for everyone and I think they realize it. They are scared and reacting to it the only way they know how to, clinging to their leaders and asking them to do everything for them.

"Elessar is going to lose his mind if he doesn't get some help that can think independently of him. I mean, just because he's king doesn't mean that he needs – or even should – do everything. If he tries, he'll burn out and I don't think they'd like that. Especially since it doesn't seem like he and Arwen will be wed soon," she added thoughtfully, a little sadly.

"She needs to experience more of us, as Elrohir has often said, _smelly and rude humans_ before she can make an informed decision about her life. While I don't much care for the way he speaks about us, he does have a point. There are many things she's going to have to deal with that she can't be told and know that she can handle it without him. Because death isn't the only thing that can separate people, him travelling and her not being able to go is one example. I just hope that he can understand her position. That he can be as understanding as she was for him.

"Plus, there's the whole dealing with Elessar twenty-four/seven. That's quite a change for a woman who only ever really had a few moments, here and there with him. And those would've been tainted by his incomplete status and the knowledge that they might not be together. Hello, King Thranduil," she smiled at the king, gesturing to her companions, "Look! The wandering prodigal has returned – and he brought a gracious companion. He _likes_ me."

"Breathing is just a myth to you, is it not?" he asked, having heard much of her discourse.

She shrugged, "What can I say? I'm a natural babbler."

"Greetings, Radagast. Saruman," he inclined his head towards them. "May I borrow your audience for a time, Miss. Rosenberg? There are several matters that we must attend to before the hour gets any later."

"Of course, see you later," Willow disappeared around the corner.

"She is rather…exuberant, is she not?"

"I like her," Radagast said, smiling. "She brings something new to our world, something I think we need. Our order is rather staid."

"She is _loud_," Thranduil stated.

"But in a nice way," he mildly replied, wondering if there was something that he was not being told about her. Yes, he knew that Sauron had gotten his hooks into her, but there seemed to be something else behind everyone's diverse attitude towards her. "She said Beorn was here. Why? I thought he rarely travelled east."

"He does not but felt a major disturbance and, while I wish to say it was that girl, I know that it is not her that he felt. As he was informed that you would be coming here, he waited for you. But that is not what I wished to speak to you about. It has to do with the nature of the disturbance in Gondor," Thranduil said. "Please, join me in my study."

The three Istari walked along, quietly chatting as they disappeared. Saruman had a sinking feline that he was the reason but wished to keep silent until he was told the truth. There would be no good in borrowing trouble.

Sméagol danced back and forth, trying to decided what to do. This was not a place he wanted to be, yet he did not know what to do anymore. The one in grey, who felt a bit like his precious was with the others, ones who did not exactly like him But the redhead scared him. There was something high energy about her that he was not used to. It was while he was there, debating his choices that Beorn found him.

The big man watched him for a time, recognizing him from Bilbo's tale and Gandalf's words of warning. There was something about the little creature that was tragically pitiful and he could understand why the hobbit could not kill him. It would be wrong to do so.

That Rosenberg child – for she could hardly be called anything else despite her experiences – was right to be moved by his plight. When he had first heard of her crazy plan, he really had thought she was crazy. And having met her friends, he could easily see why. Buffy's unique power alone made his head ache and set his teeth on edge.

Now, though, as he watched the creature scatter about, obviously confused – he found that he wanted to help him. It was a strange feeling for him. Over the years, he had come to care very little about such things.

Walking slowly towards him, he moved down until they were at eye level "Hello, my young friend. I am Beorn, walk with me for a time."

Sméagol's eyes stared at him, taking in his face – the kind expression on the harsh countenance. While his mind consciously recognized the man from the scary, kind flame headed woman's words, he did not quite understand his kindness towards him.

It did not make sense to his confused mind. "Me?" he asked, eyes darting away to see if there was another person with them.

"Yes," Beorn patiently answered, keeping his voice soft and even. "I have eaten and wish to rejoin those in the light. For while Thranduil's home is great, nature's kindness is all I need."

Xander watched the two make their way out into the light, shaking his head. "Wow," he murmured.

"What?" Buffy asked, joining him. She had taken a few laps around the house and was barely sweating. Now that Willow's lesson had finished, it was safe to go outside. While she had been getting better, there were still moments of random chaos. It was better to keep the level of stimulus down. The Slayer could hardly wait to get outdoors. As large as this place was, there was a slightly claustrophobic feel to it.

"Beorn – he can say more than five or six words," he said. "Ready?"

Buffy shook her head at him, mock disapproval on her face at his attitude. Her tongue made a clicking sound, "Stretches first – and how can he speak when Willow monopolizes their conversations?"

Xander laughed, yielding easily to her order. "I think he liked it because there's so much attention being aimed at him, she deflects it. Ever notice how he's always careful to sit near her and ask her things? She makes it easy for him to be here. I heard he doesn't travel much any more."

"Can you blame him? Every time we've turned around since we arrived here, we've been attacked. I mean, I'm the Slayer – I deliberately go around, picking fights with demons. As my friends, you have to be prepared for anything but attacks at home aren't constant. Demons don't seem to like extremes in temperatures, so summer and winter are usually rest periods.

"Here, things are very different. They don't – or didn't – seem to have any breaks or lulls in the action. Its just attack after attack. I wouldn't leave my home if I lived here and didn't have to," Buffy finished her stretches and jogged in place, waiting for him to do the same.

He flashed to his time in Moria and shuddered, knowing that he still had some healing to do. Standing up again, he quietly agreed, "True. My arrival was…far from pleasant – as I know yours wasn't."

"It was difficult," she agreed as they started to jog out into the forest. "But different than what happened to you. You never did tell me what happened, no one has really said anything. Can you talk about it?"

Xander was silent for a time, breathing deeply before he could talk. "Let's just say it was better than what I endured at Glory's hands. I was rescued before it got that bad. But I have a hard time staying here – because it is underground. I think it'll take a while before I get over it. But at least I'm not waking up screaming."

"But you aren't sleeping well," Buffy stated more than asked. It was no secret, the bags under his eyes told the tale. The other part was mere luck in finding him after a bad night – and one of her Slayer dreams. "You could ask for something to help with that."

"Oh, no. I can't get dependent upon a quick fix, Buff. This actually helps," he said, focusing on his breathing, trying to keep it even and deep. "I'll get through this the same way I did before, with you guys helping and supporting me – and exercise."

She snickered, "Well, there's been no shortage of that."

Nodding, another laugh escaped him. "But there was no balance. It was fight and run, or fight and drop from exhaustion as the case sometime was. Buffy, did you know that Faith could feel you once you arrived?"

Buffy's face went still. "Yes. I could feel her to."

"Do you feel each other back at home?" he asked, glancing at her curiously.

"Not in the same way, Xander. She's more of a distant presence, kind of like when I feel a vampire or another demon near. Here, we are much closer to the mystical side of the Slayer – the side that helped me fight Adam. I'm strong but not as strong as at home. It's more like we are sharing our power here," she stopped talking, looking confused. "It's hard to put it into words. Why?"

"Back in Lothlórien, as I was helping Willow get back to us, I felt you," he paused, remembering the pain and darkness of those days. With effort, he shook off the memories, knowing that this was not the time nor the place to indulge in them. "I know that I couldn't have done it without your help but I feared that we had altered your powers in some way when that happened."

"I doubt it – or Sauron in Willow's body would have been able to use that connection against us. I never talked to Giles about it though," she admitted, shivering at the thoughts her words conjured up. She knew, as did everyone else, that it was because of the knowledge he gained from Willow that Spike had to kill Angel.

Considering the kind of demon Angelus was, she felt no anger towards Spike about what he had to do. All she felt was a great deal of relief that it hadn't been her – and that he had not had a chance to harm any one.

"Why?" he asked as they moved around a tree and turned around. The sun turned the leaves into an emerald golden color. He breathed in, counting his breath before slowly releasing it. The stress he felt evaporated and, for the first time, he felt safe where he was.

"I didn't think about it at the time. To me, the Slayer and all that it entails is just who I am. After my experiences with the First Slayer, I've learned to know what _is_ my natural power – and what is not. My power sits in my gut, speaking to me," she explained, opting for the simple truth. "So, when I felt Faith, when I found out that I could communicate with her, I knew it was right – at least, right for this place. It was just another progression of our unity."

"Do you think it'll stay?"

"I hope not," Buffy's laugh was tinged with uncertainty. "Not that I don't love Faith but it's a little unnerving to have her in my head this way. And I know that she feels the same way about me. It's just to weird."

Giles saw them and waved, waiting for them to join him. On the table beside him rested glasses of water and towels. "We'll be leaving tomorrow – and Thranduil will be joining us."

"Did that Radagast guy show up?"

"Yes, but he will be travelling with Gandalf to visit Tom Bombadil," he replied.

"Can't he help?" Xander asked. "I mean, isn't he the reason we made this detour?"

"As far as I know, he can – but he needs help to execute this plan. Just because he's a wizard doesn't instantly translate into having all power and all knowledge. He needs help just like anyone else."

"So, Will's back under Saruman's watchful eye?" Buffy asked. "She must be delighted and thrilled."

"Miss. Rosenberg is far from being the only one happy to have the situation return to normalcy," Saruman's comment surprised them for they had not heard his approach.

The trio looked at him – really looked at him – realizing with some surprise that his appearance was different. There was a peace about him that he had lacked in the past. Something had changed for him while he was away and it suited him.

The next morning, Willow stumbled downstairs, yawning and rubbing her eyes. As much as she had wished for the return of her eyesight, she missed the blindness. It had been much easier for her to _do_ things when she couldn't see the results of her actions. Which was probably why she had been given her sight again, the lessons of being aware of what she was doing would sink in because the results would be branded into her memory.

She couldn't rest easy anymore.

"Graceful as ever, Miss Rosenberg," she heard Thranduil say. "You are up early."

"Thank you," she said, almost over a yawn. "And I fell asleep early. So, what are you doing?" Sitting down beside him, she rested her chin on her hands and studied him.

"I was enjoying the solitude," he replied, putting aside his book. "Now, I am going to talk to you about your plan for Sméagol. Do you think it wise to change his very form into that of another?"

"I don't know, sire, just that when I look at him, my heart hurts. It aches at the thought that he might be like that until he dies and who knows when that will be for the Ring has prolonged his life to long already. Do you know of a better way?" she asked, eyes searching his own, "Other than killing him?"

"Killing him would be a pitiful way of escaping the truth of his actual problem. Have you not talked or discussed this with Gandalf or Saruman?" he asked. "Do they not have any words to offer you?"

She shook her head, sighing. "Gandalf really seems to be done with the business of mortals. I get the feeling that he's very tired and just wants rest. As for Saruman, he's stumbling around in the dark and is just following my lead in this because he just doesn't know what to do. All of his knowledge, all of his power and incredible wisdom, is for nothing in this _because_ he has never come across anything like this in all of his life. So, he's letting me lead, the blind leading the blind really."

"I am sure that is not true," he started to say.

"But it is," Saruman interrupted them. "I have no idea of what to do and so, I follow her. As misguided as my pupil tends to be about some things, she is smart – and her friends have…unique perspectives upon life and its travails. Have you broken your fast?"

"Not yet," she looked at him, stunned by the hand he rested on her shoulder. It was the first time he had voluntarily – and affectionately – touched her. Since the beginning, she'd been the one to consistently reach out. Just what had happened on his trip to Radagast's home to free him so much? "Why? Am I late?"

"Not at all," he soothed her, sitting on her other side. "We are to leave soon, so we should eat before doing a short lesson – your control needs work."

"We're leaving?" she was surprised. This was the first time she'd heard anything about going anywhere.

"Of course," Thranduil answered. "Surely you did not expect to stay here for the rest of your life."

"As much as I know that would please you to no end because we add such color and life to your home, no. But I thought we'd be here until we helped Sméagol. After all, this area was his home for centuries. I guess I thought his new life should begin anew here," she ended, feeling slightly dumb for having thought it at all.

"It is an excellent thought but unfortunately, we need more guidance than Radagast can provide," Saruman softly informed her, thanking the elf who placed a mug of tea and bowl of fruit in front of him.

"Sorry if my limited power disappoints you, Miss. Rosenberg," his cheery voice announced his presence. "And how are you this fine day?"

"Still tired – and I'm not disappointed at all. Power isn't all that it's cracked up to be, as I know full well. Besides, I like that you can say _I don't know how to do this_ – I still can't do that. And I need to learn," she ended on a self-deprecating laugh.

"You are not as bad as some I could name," Saruman said. "Eat, Miss. Rosenberg, I will not have you getting ill on my watch."

She smiled at him before grabbing an apple slice from his bowl, "You do care. You're so cool, Saruman."

"Of all the things I have been called, I do not believe that is one of them. Unless you are referring to my rather chilly attitude," he commented, looking at her. "I thought that I had warmed up and become far more approachable."

"What? No, what I meant is, you're a great guy. Cool is a term denoting that. Do people honestly _not_ have slang here? And you say _we're_ culturally inept," she chewed on the skin of the apple thoughtfully. "Although, using slang does shorten our language skills and, most likely, shrinks our communicative skills. So, you're probably right."

"I do not believe anyone could truthfully say that you lack communicative skills," the dry comment came from Thranduil. "You certainly seem to talk more than most people."

"But there's a difference between talking and communicating," Giles said, entering the room with Buffy and Xander.

"Hey, Will, destroyed anything yet?" Xander teased, walking around the table to sit opposite her and Saruman.

"Just a blood vessel," she showed him her bruised looking finger. "I caught it in a door as I left my room, I think."

"When are we leaving?" Buffy asked, loading up her plate. "Because I want to get on the road before it gets too late. There's something in the air that makes my spidey senses tingle. I don't like it."

"I believe that could be a result of the spells enacted to bring all of us here," Gandalf quietly commented, sitting at the other end of the table. "If things do not improve with your abilities and control over then, Miss. Rosenberg, I believe that we may need a Slayer of our own to fix the damage caused by your arrival. That is not something I believe we are ready to deal with at this time. Not after all the wars and confusions that have plagued Middle-Earth over the past few centuries," he added.

"What are the chances of that happening?" Giles asked, leaning forward slightly. His breakfast sat before him, forgotten.

"Given the circumstances of the spells cast and the way that Tara, along with Glory, actually entered our world, I would say the danger is minimal. However, if there was a way to harvest the power that Miss. Rosenberg has spilled along the way – and the powers of the Slayers themselves – it would open the breach between the worlds. I am sorry to say that such spill over is unavoidable. No one could shut down completely, not without risking their own life. Therefore, it is quite possible that the purity of the passageway is now thoroughly polluted," Saruman spoke the words with a quiet dispassion.

He hated the tone but was far more comfortable using it. As unpleasant as it was, this kind of detachment was known to him. It was something he knew how to do, detach while teaching. "Have you had any actual feelings of demons familiar to your world, Miss. Summers?"

"No," she admitted after thinking it over. "I haven't had a dream that told me they were here, though I will admit that I've had several Slayer dreams. Does that mean anything?"

Saruman exchanged looks with Gandalf before answering, "It may. Should those dreams change, please tell someone – anyone really – about it. Our best defense is gaining an early warning."

Buffy shivered.

For the first time, she felt the weight of her calling pressing upon her here as she realized her obligation to these beings. To all living beings, no matter where they were to be found. She and Faith were, for good or ill intent, the Chosen Ones. They were born and trained to take care of this evil.

If is came down to it, she would accept the burden of defending this world – lack of indoor plumbing and all it entailed. Looking at her friends, she knew they were aware of her thoughts and feelings.

Yet, they could not fully understand her position.

But Saruman did. He understood the burden she felt for, though they were not the same, he was like her. As she had been, he was called to a work that only he could do.

If she needed a new watcher, she knew she could turn to him.

End, Part 31


	32. We’re Just Being Lazy

_Author's Note: The hobbits return to the Shire is about the same as it was in the book, with one very obvious exception. So, I'm not going to go into it. Hopefully, my readers are aware of what was going on back there – and who was responsible for it. That, to, was changed out of necessity. And, yes, there is some major doubt about the whole Elessar/Arwen thing. Write that ending how you see fit because I am not going to touch it, seeing as I've never quite liked the pairing – or seen the romance of it. I always got the feeling that Elessar loved __**Éowyn**__ far more than she did him. Thus, the not touching it. I apologize if this is seen as a cop-out_.

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Thranduil left his eldest in charge with a few cautionary words and left, taking up a position beside Gandalf, quietly listening to the talk around him. For the first time in ages, he could breath in the real peace of Mirkwood. Now that the oppressive presence of Sauron and his minions was dispelled, the world sang about him again.

Occasionally, he watched Willow with Saruman, Sméagol dancing around their feet, still a very jittery and nervous creature. It was obvious that they were used to it because their stride never faltered, though Willow occasionally stumbled in the path.

Beorn had gone ahead of them to speak with Tom accompanied by Gimli, Radagast, and Giles, figuring that the Watcher would be able to explain the situation. While he was not quite sure why the dwarf had gone with them, he was pretty sure it had something to do with his attitude.

Legolas had left the night before, intent on letting those in Rivendell know they were on their way. A sharp pang of regret filled him that he would not be travelling with his youngest, getting to know him better. Of all his children, he had not spent much time with him and had not treated him as kindly as he should have.

Miss. Rosenberg had been right. It was through testing his son's friends that he wished to learn more about his son. Through their words, he had hoped to gain an understanding of the child he had begotten into this world.

It was quite a shock to find out how like his mother Legolas was. He wanted to get to know him better and felt denied of the chance. Privately, he resolved to spend more time with him – even if it meant putting up with Gimli, though he supposed the dwarf wasn't that bad.

"Is something wrong?" Gandalf questioned. There was a sense of melancholia about the elf king that he felt was misplaced. "Are you unhappy about your decision regarding Miss. Rosenberg, even though it was the right thing to do?"

"While not blameless in what happened, there is no point in punishing her. She is living that sentence every day because she can never relax and be content. Even if she loses the full extent of her powers, Miss. Rosenberg will always be scarred by what occurred here."

"Then what is it?"

Thranduil looked at him, shaking his head. "You are not a father and could never understand my feelings, though I know you would try. Let us just say that I am in awe of Legolas and cannot figure out just how he turned into such a courageous warrior without my noticing it. One day, he was a little boy, asking for stories at my feet. The next thing I know, he has come back, a battle scarred hero."

"You had more to do with it than you think," he said, wondering if there was anything else he could say. Thranduil was right. This was something he could never understand. Even when he had been a wizard in gray, this was a knowledge that had eluded him.

"May be – but was my influence for good or for ill?" he asked, not really wanting an answer. "Tell me, if Elrond is not going to be in Rivendell, who is to help us when we arrive? As much as I trust his sons in battle, they do not have much love in their hearts for the lore of our world as their father. It would be much easier to find what we seek if he were to be there."

"I believe that Galadriel will be there to help us. Miss. Summers will not be pleased to see her again," he added, a wry twist to his lips.

"Yes, I have noticed her absolute dislike of us. Is it something other than her being a Slayer?" he asked.

"I believe it has more to do with the fact that she sees elves – and by some extension, the Istari – as coldly aloof and unapproachable. She – and Miss. Faith – despise the inhumanity in us," he shrugged. "I do not fully understand it any longer."

"Miss Faith is the one who was rude to my men and I after we arrived correct?" he asked, vaguely the dark haired Slayer. "I believe she is none to fond of us just on principle."

Gandalf gave him an odd look, not really recognizing the expression. At this time, he felt it best not to point out that Thranduil was perhaps being influenced by the outsiders more than he thought. "I do not think she has been polite to anyone she has met here. At least, not at first," he paused and reflected, "I believe that she called Elrond a pervert for helping Willow out of her drenched clothing."

"Who could blame her? If I saw a stranger undressing my daughter amidst people I did not know, I would also accuse them of ill intent. Especially if they were unconscious," he added, recalling Giles' tale.

"She gets along with the dwarves exceptionally well, I must admit." It was almost an after thought.

"That does not surprise me in the least," he remarked, "Like is often drawn to like."

It surprised them to see that Legolas was waiting for them as they turned the corner, deep in conversation with Buffy. He nodded at their greetings absently but kept on talking. She finally nodded and followed him off the trail, giving Willow a reassuring look. Thranduil sped up a little bit, "Has something happened we should be prepared for?" he asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged carelessly, "But probably not. If there was something _really_ wrong, Legolas would've told us all."

"But to be safe, why do we not wait for them to rejoin us in that little clearing?" It was a faint suggestion from Saruman.

Willow gave a resigned shrug after studying her companions. "If you want to, I guess it'll be all right."

"Don't sound so thrilled, Will," Xander teased, sitting down on a sun warmed rock to pull off his shoe. "Aren't you even the least bit tired?" Shaking it out, he shook his head at the number of stones that fell out.

"Not really," she sat beside him, rubbing her eyes. "I'm more troubled by my eyes, they hurt something fierce." Carefully, she poured some water onto a cloth and held it against her closed lids, feeling relief from the touch even as old memories resurfaced at the touch.

Having cleared his other shoe, he leaned back and kept a careful watch on her breathing. It seemed steady and even, but they'd been fooled before. "Too bad we don't have any sunglasses to cut down on the sun's glare," he said.

"Yeah," she agreed, a hollow sound to her voice.

"Pull it away, Will, and look around you. You're safe and in control, with friends," he said, making no move to do it himself. Past experience had taught them all that she had to do it herself or she'd still be trapped in that nightmare.

Breathing deeply, she slowly lowered the cloth and opened her eyes. Blinking away the lingering moisture, she looked at everyone there. While the company was mostly strangers to her, she recognized none of the hate and malice that was in her mind.

She was safe.

"Thanks, Xander," she exhaled the words in relief. "I guess some things as bone deep and don't go away just because the body's new and mostly improved."

Thranduil had been alternating his gaze from where Legolas and Buffy had vanished and his companions' actions. But the scene before him had caught and held his attention. "What is wrong with Miss. Rosenberg?" he asked.

"Nothing that time will not eventually heal," Saruman answered. "It is an old wound that troubles her, one received in her world."

"How could one of her heritage be harmed?"

"There was no center balancing her and offering her strength. There is a reason not many _sidhe_ are able to live on the mortal plain," he explained. "For another, concentrated and determined hatred will leave its mark upon anyone. And Willow's enemies knew what they were doing when they attacked her."

"The ones who made her blind," Gandalf added.

Saruman shook his head, "Her blindness was only an outward manifestation of the torture she endured at their hands. They damaged her mind and soul. She is not whole because of them, neither is Xander for he had to watch as they raped and beat her. In fact, none of them is whole. It is one reason that Lord Boromir was able to find redemption among them. They have been were he is and helped him find his own way, his own strength. Individually, they are strong.

"But together, they are unstoppable. It is something that the Fellowship learned over time, that the hobbits shared from the very beginning, that allowed Legolas and Gimli to put aside all hostility and look at the truth. The Ring could never win against those odds. The battle had been almost completely lost to It."

"It won Boromir, albeit temporarily," Gandalf commented, smoking his pipe where the wind would not carry it towards Thranduil.

"I said _almost_," Saruman's voice was sharp.

Willow's tired sounding voice interceded then, "It did so because he was truly alone among them. He had made friends with them but no one was able to help carry his burdens. He had to do so alone."

"We're not blaming anyone," Xander hastened to add, realizing how her words might have sounded to them. "But it was a weakness that the Ring exploited. He fell because the Ring attacked that part of him and, as a result, he succumbed to it. Yet, there was enough of him left that It could not destroy him."

Buffy and Legolas returned, "What? You didn't think we could take care of you?"

"Not at all," Willow smiled, "We're just being lazy."

"We should continue. This is not a safe place," Legolas suggested, noticing his father's pensive look.

"Why are there still orcs around? The ones on the field of battle died when Sauron did," Xander asked, not directing his question towards a specific Istari. It had been nagging at him for some time, this apparent contradiction.

"They are not tied to Sauron," Gandalf explained. "Though I am at a loss to explain why they were destroyed earlier. It should not have been so for they should have been independent from him."

Saruman cleared his throat, "The orcs at Mordor were closer to Sauron, closer to his power. As a result, when he was killed, they were pulled into that death. He sustained them unnaturally for centuries. Therefore, they could not survive without him. No, Miss. Rosenberg, you did not do this. If fact, I am convinced that it is a direct result of how you destroyed him that brought this about. Do you feel guilty?"

"That I caused death, yes. I cannot be comfortable with the amount of lives I took, no matter how perverted that life was." Willow sighed, steps slowing as she chewed the inside of her cheek. "I think if ever I stop feeling for those I've killed, I would have lost my humanity. Destroying evil is necessary but one should never become inured by it or take delight in it."

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Frodo and his friends bid farewell to Rivendell, knowing they had to leave. As much as they wished to have their friends with them, they knew this was their fight. It was up to them to reclaim the Shire from the danger that had moved in. No matter what the danger was, they needed to face it.

Faith watched them go, half tempted to follow them. Even though she recognized that this was something they needed to do, she wanted to help. Plus, she was bored out of her mind. Glóin could only do so much at his age and Oz was helping with the research. Giles had been annoyingly vague on that point.

After weeks of intense activity and constant travel, this state of rest bothered her, it felt unnatural There was a need in her to be doing something.

With a sense of regret, she turned around and saw Spike coming up the road. His look was cool but there was an underlying sense of impatient anticipation. "Slayer," he greeted. "Just thought you'd like to know, they're about a day away from the border."

"Are they _all_ going to be here?" There was an excitement in her voice, anxious to see Buffy again, if for no other reason than a decent sparing partner.

"No, there's been another division. Gimli, Giles, and that Radagast fellow have gone to talk with some _other_ wizarding type. Don't have a clue as to why, nor do I really care," he said. "I'm going off to meet them. I can't take much more of this relaxation."

"Neither can I," it was perhaps one of the only things they would ever agree on. It went unspoken but was acknowledged that she was joining him on this trip.

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As Rivendell's border came in sight, they were surprised to see that the Gondorians had yet to depart, even though it looked as though Elrond and Arwen were ready to leave. The moment the group saw them, they went silent, staring at Saruman with undisguised – reviled – curiosity.

Elessar heard the silence and felt his nose twitch with the tension he felt. Standing up, he excused himself from the meeting, putting aside his notes. Walking out of the tent, he looked up the road and saw the approaching group. Then he glanced at his own people, noting the way the stood.

Repressing a sigh at the tense stand off, he made his way towards them. He really had hoped that he was done with such things now that the war was over. As bad as it was, he supposed that he would have to get used to it.

Hopefully, they would not be so strenuous in the years to come. "You did not tell me that you were bringing Thranduil with you," his voice was slightly scolding. "I would have warned Elrond."

"Well, we didn't know until we were leaving," Buffy shrugged. "And aren't you supposed to be back at Gondor, holding the hand's of the babies you call your people?"

"We do not need hand holding," one of them said, highly insulted by her words.

"Could've fooled me with the way you go running to him for every little thing," she retorted. "So, why are you still here?"

"There were some unexpected problems," he said, almost but not quite rolling his eyes. "Did you run into any problems?"

"The usual activity but nothing we could not handle," Legolas answered. "They do not seem as determined without a leader pushing them on. Did Beorn and those with him pass through safely?"

"We did not see them," Elrond answered coming up the path, with Elrohir. "I had a feeling you would be here, Thranduil, though I will admit to wondering the reason behind it. Greetings, Saruman," he nodded at the Istari.

"I am honored to be here, Lord Elrond," he quietly greeted him, bowing before falling back to join Willow and Gandalf. He felt her squeeze his hand, and the warmth of her happiness at his restraint. Both of them could feel the suspicion and disdain of the Gondorians for them. They were both fully aware that he could have given them a whiplash lecture, sent them to their knees with a few well chosen phrases – and he turned it away.

"You're learning," she whispered.

"I am trying but it is not easy," he admitted. "Especially when I know that many of these men would have stood up to Denethor and helped their people. Yet, they did not. They do not have the right to judge me, yet they are. The injustice of this is hard to bear."

"Be patient and understanding, we are all mortal. As such, hypocrisy is a part of us," she said.

Saruman's lips twisted, "They make it difficult."

"Mortal," Xander reminded him, moving to the side to allow Buffy into the small circle they had made off to the side. "We're not exactly known for being open-minded or forgiving. Even Will here makes snap judgments and holds onto them," he added.

"Faith," she admitted when he looked at her questioningly. "I didn't trust her when I first met her, even if she did save me. It took me a while to come to…appreciate her for who and what she was."

"On that note, I'm hungry and I've heard they have good food. So, you wanna sneak into Rivendell and eat?" he asked.

Willow giggled. "Rivendell is about a day off."

"Then let's go and let the adults play their mind games," he suggested.

"We're going to sneak away now," she whispered. "Wanna come along?"

Saruman shook his head, wondering if he would finally get used to their strangeness just in time for them to leave. "I believe that I should remain here. If I were to disappear, these men may suspect something of evil origin. That would be detrimental to my purpose, would it not?"

"You're a brave man, Saruman," she hugged him quickly, adding, "I'll practice, promise."

As they disappeared, Gandalf wryly noted, "Your pupil is peculiar."

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The group met up with Faith and Spike half-way up the road and took a break, more for Willow's sake than their own. In their minds, they remembered their stay, knowing that this was not like Thranduil's place.

Rivendell was far purer – though not as pure as Lothlórien – and, reborn as an Istari or not, she still was unbalanced.

"What's this Radagast guy like?" Faith asked, blowing a smoke ring into the trees.

"You remember what Gandalf was like before he bleached himself?" Willow asked, seeing her nod. "He's funnier – and he actually likes me."

"The man's crazy fun," Buffy agreed.

"Saruman is okay with him?" Faith asked, remembering the tall, almost stoic man well. "He barely tolerates you, Will," she pointed out even though the answer had been in the affirmative. May be _because_ the answer was in the affirmative.

She giggled, standing up and brushing off her skirt, "I know. I think he likes him because Radagast keeps me occupied when I'm not practicing. Which reminds me, I've got to do my meditation now. I made a promise to be on my guard. So, you guys talk amongst yourselves while I go do that."

Xander went with her, knowing that she'd need him to be an anchor for her. And he needed her to help him focus, all of this bouncing around between extremes was tiring him.

"How's Dawn?" Buffy asked once they were out of earshot. She didn't want to worry either Xander or Willow before it was necessary.

"She needs to be home," Faith said. "The twins learned something from Will's experience as she is staying with the dwarves. But it isn't enough to help her, not really. Will's got to get control soon, time's running out on all of us."

"Is it that bad?" The significance of her words hit Buffy like a blow to the solar plexus. Willow must be under a high level of pressure. Knowing that she was really the only one who could undo all the damage she – and Glory – did, she really was trying to learn and focus her abilities.

And while she understood that burden, it didn't stop Buffy from wanting to force her to just _fix_ things.

"Fred's looking for answers in Lord Elrond's library – when she isn't searching for other answers," Spike's reply was not quite the answer she wanted – but the only one available to them under the circumstances.

Buffy nodded, drawing in a shaky breath. "And how are the hobbits?"

"They've gone home," Faith shrugged.

"I thought Gandalf was worried about their home being under attack," she said, puzzled by the way the hobbits had gone on home, disregarding his counsel.

"He is – but they felt that this was their battle to fight, not ours or his," she answered, interpreting her look easily. "Yeah, I didn't get it either since we fought in their Ring war. But I wasn't going to argue with them."

"Red made it our war when she interfered with the Ring," Spike observed.

"Sure, blame Willow," Buffy snapped.

"I'm not blaming anyone," Spike said. "I'm just stating fact. It was our war because she trapped the Ring and it possessed her. Ignorance of something is no excuse."

Faith and Buffy just looked at him before something occurred to Faith, "Hey. Are we going to have to separate back to the places we appeared in before we can go home."

They all exchanged looks, more than a little anger in Buffy's eyes. "I certainly hope not – I don't want Xander anywhere near that death trap called Moria." Her voice held a whiplash of fire in it.

Spike had a considering look on his face, trying to think if there was anything in his experience with magic that could tell them anything. He drew a blank. "It doesn't much make sense to me," he admitted. "Granted, my knowledge isn't quite like those of the Watchers but I just don't think it works. We'd have been told earlier if that was what was required."

"Would we?" Buffy wondered. "We've not been told much of anything by anyone – and what we've been told hadn't amounted to much of anything."

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Oz cleared his throat, half-amused by Fred's shriek of shock. "Found anything?" he asked, sitting down across from her.

"A lot of things but nothing that pertains to our current situation with Dawn," she sighed, putting aside another book.

"Have you found a way for us to get home?" he pulled one of the open books toward him, looking at it.

"I thought Willow knew the way," she said, confused by his negative shake.

"She know to close the time gaps – not how to send us home," he said. "You aren't the only one who thinks that. I asked because Giles learned here. Since he did, why couldn't he send us home?"

"He can't?" she asked, never having thought about that connection.

"No – because his magic didn't bring him here," Oz shrugged. "I don't quite understand how it works."

"We should ask Gandalf," she commented.

"Saruman," he corrected. "I doubt we'll see Gandalf again, now with Gondor needing his help."

"That should be…interesting," she said, watching him curiously. "You're not quite like anyone around here. Why is that?"

Oz looked up from the unrolled parchment, a wry grin on his face. "I'm not an elf."

Fred rolled her eyes, "You know what I mean."

"Do I?" he rhetorically asked, not quite sure what she was asking for.

She almost made another exasperated comment but thought over her words. It was rather open ended, she had to admit it. "Okay, I know that you're a werewolf but I thought that were-creatures were aggressive, quick tempered, and harshly unforgiving. Yet, you are rather Zen in your attitude and behavior. Thus, different from anyone of our world. Why?"

"My _daemon_ status balances me in a way that other were-creatures do not," he replied. "There is no great mystery about that."

"Your friends have arrived," Elladan quietly told them. "Miss Dawn has already gone out to greet them."

"Thank you," Oz rose to his feet, nodding to Fred, almost surprised when she joined him. They walked out and met Dawn on the bridge. "That are over that hill."

Once reunited, Willow, Fred, and Xander went to the library, looking for the solution that Giles said was there. Xander to keep an eye on Willow so that she wouldn't overtax herself. Her experience with Sauron had taught her a bit about moderation – but it didn't stop her first instinct to keep at a problem until it was solved.

But first, he made a detour to find some food. The _lembas_ was good – but he wanted something different to eat. One could only stomach the same, exact food for so long before they went mental. At least, that's what he'd always found when it came to his stomach.

Buffy, dawn, Faith, Oz, and Spike sat outside, talking quietly. "If they've found the way home, we still have to wait for Giles," Buffy said.

"Yeah, about that – do you think they'll need Willow to do the spell on Sméagol?" asked Dawn, tiredly leaning against Buffy's shoulders. "I just don't know how much longer I can do this."

"Will's got a different line of power," Buffy told her. "I don't think they'll want any further contamination."

"He's already contaminated, so keeping her out doesn't work," Spike observed. "And not just by the Ring, she got her hooks into him as well. It's why he doesn't feel comfortable around her but can't stay away."

"So, what are you saying?" Faith demanded, glaring at him. Oz put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

"Basically this, Miss. Rosenberg has a hand in what happened to Sméagol. As a result, she must be a part of the spell. Sméagol does not understand why she affects him, he is torn between wanting to be around her and being far away from her. Though contaminated is not the best word for what has occurred," Beorn informed them.

Giles walked over to them, placing his hand on Dawn's forehead, frowning at the fever. "Where's Saruman?"

"Back trying to convince Gondor that he's not a threat to them any longer?" It almost sounded like a question, since they didn't know for sure _what_ he was doing any longer. They'd had no news – of any kind.

"And Gandalf?"

"The same," Buffy said. "Why?"

"Only the three last Istari can send us home. And Dawn needs to leave within the next twenty-four hours or she will die," he quietly informed them.

Buffy tightened her grip on Dawn, "There's no way we can walk that distance before time's up."

"Then you will be most relieved to discover that we are here," Saruman quietly said, walking into the clearing. Looking around, he nodded at Radagast and the others, asking, "Where is my errant pupil?"

"The library," Oz said. "Should I get her?"

His head shook, "She should rest until she has the strength to close the gaps created by Glory's spell. It is also her power which will help us heal and restore Sméagol unto his true state of mind, though his form must be different."

Dawn and Buffy exchanged looks, "Faith, you will take care of Dawn, right?"

Faith slowly nodded, recognizing the moment for what it was. If anything went wrong, it would be up to her to take upon her the mantle of older sister – and main slayer. Uncomfortable with the idea, yet knowing that she must do it, she made preparations for the future just in case the worst happened, "Who's with me?"

Spike, Oz, and the newly arrived Fred volunteered. "Are you sure?" she asked her, it would mean a move from the city she had finally rediscovered herself and her confidence in to another one entirely.

"Yeah, as much fun as the library is, I want to go home. Without Willow, you're going to need me there," Fred said, knowing that if anything went awry – that if they couldn't close the gaps – Buffy would stay behind. The Slayer in her would demand nothing less than her full dedication to keeping their demons from crossing over into this world. And Willow would not let her stay alone, which meant that both Xander and Giles would be staying.

"Did you find anything?"

"Only that I don't think that the gaps will ever be fully closed. We've been here too long. Willow fell asleep before I could ask for any hint on what to look for," she said.

Gandalf shook his head while Saruman glanced towards the library, a considering look in his eyes. Unlike the others, he fully expected the gaps to be closed. No other option would work considering all the powers that were working towards this end.

Much later that evening, Willow stretched and yawned, opening her eyes. Looking around sleepily, she realized that she had been abandoned by Fred. Not that she blamed her at all. After all, she did fall asleep on the job. Xander slept with his head buried on his arms.

She nudged him sleepily, "I think we slept through the food, Xan."

He sat up slowly, blinking as a yawn cracked his jaw. "Not my fault, Will, you're the one who came in here before anything else. And I _did_ bring some chow, you just didn't eat," he pointed out, standing up.

The two stumbled into the dinning hall, "You are late," a familiar voice scolded.

"Saruman! Giles! Radagast! You're here!" Willow squealed happily, rushing up to hug them both, hugging Radagast when he stood up to greet them. Though he was surprised by the action, he hugged her back. He was beginning to understand just _why_ she unnerved Thranduil – and most of it had nothing to do with her being possessed by Sauron. "How are you?"

"I am well – and full of good news, Miss. Rosenberg. This is Tom Bombadil. Tom, this is Miss. Willow Rosenberg," he introduced them.

"I have heard about you," Tom said with a smile.

"And I'm sure the majority of it was bad, right?" she asked with a resigned sigh, studying him curiously. Tall, with human eyes, there was a surprising amount of contentment in them that she had not expected to find at all. Even Gandalf, with all his wisdom and positive outlook on life, had never had.

"Why would it be bad? The land and Sam spoke well of you," he said, sounding amused. "You have the most unusual color of hair for a human."

Her eyes kind of did a half-roll, as if trying to see what he saw. Was her hair no longer red? If so, why had no one told her? "What color is it?" she asked him, eyes wide and apprehensive.

"Red," he said. "I have only ever known dwarves to have red hair."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Then I'm in good company," she smiled over at the dwarves who only roared with laughter.

"Hello, lass."

"Gimli! Legolas!" She turned and hugged the dwarf happily, smiling at the elf as if they hadn't been travelling together the past few days. As if she hadn't seen him the day before, talking with the Gondorians. "How have you been?"

"Well," Gimli said, hugging her back. "You?"

"Haven't destroyed anything lately," she said, stepping back. "Legolas, nice to see you again."

"Gimli gets a hug while I only get a nice to see you again?" he asked, shaking his head. "I feel unappreciated."

She stared at him uncertainly, "You want to be hugged?" It was an almost disbelieving, spoken in a faint voice.

"I have been with you for some time. So, why does that surprise you?" he asked, head tilted to study her curiously. "Is it because I am an elf?"

"To be honest, yes. Your race does not seem to care for such easy, comfortable touching," she replied. "I'd like to hug Elrond but won't because of his hands off aura."

"You hug Saruman and he projects the same vibe," he pointed out.

"He does not, he _wants_ to be hugged. Badly, he just doesn't know how to ask," she argued. "Look at him. The man is definitely hug starved."

Legolas and Gimli stared at her, shaking their heads in consternation. "You are truly weird, Willow. You know that, right?"

"I'm definitely certifiable," she agreed with a wide smile, throwing her arms about him. "It really is good to see you, Legolas – and for goodness sake, take pity on your father. He's not as bad as you think."

"I will take that into consideration," he said, slightly melting into the hug.

"Cool! Free elf hugs!" Faith hollered from across the hall, running over to join in the hug. As much as she enjoyed his friendship and pleasant company, she didn't want to crowd him – to much.

"Hey! Squishing the formerly ill redhead here," she good naturedly complained.

"Emphasis on the formerly," Buffy commented, taking Faith's place.

"I am not doing this without the buffer," Legolas said.

She snickered, "You know I love you guys, right?"

Tom watched this, totally amused. "Saruman, she is definitely different."

"Different is not quite the word I would use," he replied, watching Dawn take her turn, "Needed, perhaps would be a far better word. She and her friends are all needed, they strengthen each other in a way we would benefit from learning."

Tom turned, hearing a strange note in his voice. Studying him, he was surprised by the soft affection on Saruman's normally cold and stern face. Glancing back at the girl in question, he thought about what she had said of him, realizing that she had seen what they could not.

"Willow," Saruman called out, having seen Xander latch on to them after Oz had stepped back, "Are you till breathing?"

"Someone go hug the Istari," her muffled voice said in answer, "Share the affection."

"That is not an answer," Saruman said, eyeing her friends warily, wondering who – if any of them – would have the courage to approach him, to follow through on her request. While he had come to appreciate them and their…uniqueness, he could honestly say that he would welcome open affection from none of them.

"Sure it is – just not the one you wanted," she pulled away from Legolas at last and launched herself at him. "So, what's the plan?"

"We will heal this Sméagol fellow and then I will take your friends safely to a place were you may depart from this world to your home," Tom said. "Or as close as you can get to it."

Fred heard this and said what many of them were thinking, "You can send us home."

Tom was confused, "No. It is only my job to take you there. Do you not know _how_ to get home?"

"No, we were bespelled here by someone outside of our group," Fred said, her shoulders slumping in defeat. _Did no one in this entire world have an answer to the one question they all had_? "Giles has said nothing to us of a _go home_ incantation."

"As he was not the one who used his magic to come here, he would not where to find the incantation, though he was aware of were it could be found," Gandalf said, surprising them with the most direct answer they had heard from him in what seemed to be a long time.

"I thought you were with squirrel boy and his group of yes men," Faith said.

"King Elessar is a man and has no need for me. This path is his, one he must chart on his own. I am needed here," he replied, calm facade not breaking.

"Whatever," she blew him off.

Saruman's head shook, still unused to all of this…disdain towards Gandalf. Usually, _he_ was the one who received such attacks. "Do I want to know what occurred to cause such wrath to be directed towards Gandalf?"

Willow looked up at him, "I think it has something to do with his attitude after I'd been captured. That he just thought I was lost and Buffy should let it go. Wrong thing to tell her, Faith just followed her lead. I guess," she shrugged. "I was kinda being evil during the breakdown of relations with him."

"Shall we break away for a while and work on your exercises?" he asked, feeling pressured by something he couldn't explain. It was probably the lessening of their time together. Soon, he would be losing both his shield and the one who honestly believed in him for no other reason than she could.

Grabbing his arm, she dragged him away. "You going to miss us?" she asked, feeling something she hadn't expected to feel from him – sadness.

"I do believe I shall," he said once they were alone, "You, at least, I know that I will."

"You could come with us," she suggested.

"The thought had crossed my mind," he admitted with no sense of shame. It was only the truth. "But I do not belong in your world anymore than you do in mine. It would not work out, my work is here."

End, Part 32


	33. Back At Last, Are We?

_Author's Note: At long last, after much delay and debate in which I began to wonder if I was channeling Tolkien – though I think he would roll in his grave over what I've done to his beloved world – this story is finished_.

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Saruman scratched the dog's head, standing to the side and watching as their friends gathered in the circle, ready to go home. The change was more than just that of Sméagol's form, there was something else. For the first time since they had known him, he seemed happy. There was a peace about him that Saruman appreciated and felt reaching into him.

By his side, the hobbits stood, once more secured in their world now that they had freed hobbiton of Wormtongue's presence. Gandalf stood about three quarters away and across from him, a lone Sentinel for Gimli and Legolas stood near Radagast, who was equal distance from him and Gandalf.

Yet, they were within reach of the hobbits should any need for protection arise. The wizard knew it was because they were far from trusting him. They, like many, did not know what to make of him or how much of his change was real – and how much of it was merely because of the presence of Willow and her friends in his life.

For no matter what she said, they did not easily let go of their suspicions.

His arms felt as empty as his heart used to be, missing her impulsive hugs. He had been the first – and the last – to be hugged before she joined her friends. If not for the memory of Ellë's words and comfort, that he was never alone, he did not know what he would do.

"Are you ready?" Gandalf asked.

"I was ready upon getting here," Faith replied, much to the amusement of her friends. What made it even funnier was that she said it with a straight face – and only partially meant it since she had made good friends here.

"What is to become of Sméagol?" Buffy asked.

"He shall accompany me on my journey," Saruman said. "I have become attached to him."

"He'll be good for you," Xander said. "Just make sure you're good to him, dogs are very loyal."

Willow stepped back and, eyes on Saruman, quietly asked, "Am I allowed to come back?" There was an almost wistful sound of sorrow in her voice.

"If it is allowed, you will always find a welcome with me," he replied before anyone else could answer. And then he stepped forward, surprising her by enfolding her in his arms, "Always welcomed."

She nodded, stepping back when he let go, "Then I am ready."

"Gather in the loose strands before we go. We can't afford to let anything slip," Fred reminded her, a sharp sound in her voice. There was no real irritation, though, just extreme nervousness. It was one thing when they'd had time to research it, but this was something else. There was so much at stake, they couldn't afford to trip up now.

They were going back to a world full of uncertainty – especially now that they had lost Angel. The thought of this unknown scared her but she was resolved to do this – in thankful tribute for all Angel had done for her. If it hadn't been for him, she would still be on Pylea.

And that thought made her smile through her nervous fears. As bad as her experience had been, there were things that she had learned and people that she'd met she wouldn't regret. She wondered what Lorne would think when, instead of the vampire he knew, they introduced him to Boromir. As far as she knew, the Pylian had never met him before.

And that was a thorny problem.

It was going to be tricky integrating Boromir into the modern world of Los Angeles, a world far different from Sunnydale. There were a great deal more complications to be found in LA than in the small world he'd first found himself in. Though modern the town was, the arrival of Glory's enemies – even Glory herself – had changed the very nature of the town, rendering it far more like Gondor.

LA was another story entirely – especially because of Wolfram and Hart.

Cordelia was far more optimistic about it being successful than she should be. Fred remembered her integration back into modern life – and she had more of a basis to build on than he did.

Willow drew in a nervous breath as she nodded at the reminder, moving so that she was in the direct center of them. "Good luck to you all," she waved to them, feeling the ground give way and the power surge through her as she called back all the energy she and Glory had expended when they meddled in the world, mending the tears as she did.

They stared at the empty circle and sighed in relief and sorrow. Grateful as they were that it had worked, that they had _all_ been able to go home, they would miss their friends. Then again, the world would be a great deal more peaceful and safe without the danger of the cross polinization that they had brought with them. There were just some things that they knew and did that were dangerous to them for they were not ready for the changes they were sure to bring about had they stayed with them.

Legolas looked sharply towards the East, head tilted to the side. Knowing that there was still a lot of unease about, they drew closer together, ready for anything – except the sight of King Elessar's horse cresting the hill.

"I missed them," he did not make it a question for he could clearly see that they were not there. "Did everything go smoothly?"

"As far as we tell though the full range of what has transpired cannot be fully judged for a few days," Gandalf said, adding gloomily, "If even then."

"Willow left this for you," Saruman gave him a letter, deciding it was best not to dwell on what could not be changed. If their world was altered, it would reveal itself in time. Worrying over what may happen would only make one sick - and could possibly lead to an ignorance when the signs revealed themselves for they were already looking for them in everything. Paranoia only hurt the one who was living in the constant state of it for it destroyed his mind before reaching out to destroy all that was around them in an effort to become safe.

Elessar took it from him, a very strange expression on his face as he did. Getting off his horse, he pulled out the staff from where it resided and held it out, "How very odd, I have something for you from her too. She wanted me to make sure that you received her staff when I gave it to her. I only had it because Fred is the one who grabbed it upon leaving Rohan. It has not the magical properties of your own but she wanted you to have it anyway." He stopped talking, realizing that he was starting to sound like Willow – which was an amusing but hardly comforting.

Accepting it with a grateful smile, he felt the very heart of Willow and her friends in the wood. "Thank you, King Elessar," he cleared his throat nervously. It was time for him to be off. "I should be about my work."

"What is your first task to be?" Radagast asked, eyeing the staff curiously. It did not look very different from his own. Yet, there was something about it that was unfamiliar and odd.

"If it was my choice, I would seek the Entwives and repair that damage. But I am following the will of the Valar now as I should have been," he paused momentarily before finishing, "So, I will go where they lead me."

"I shall see you soon," Gandalf promised.

"I will walk with you," Radagast offered, joining him and Sméagol. "May I?"

Saruman passed over the staff, realizing that he was curious as to what a staff from another place felt. It was a curious sensation, but he liked it. "I shall look forwards to your company, Gandalf, though there is no need to hurry. Thank you."

"What does she say?" Sam asked Elessar, noting the laughter in his eyes. "Surely she does not babble on paper as she does in life?"

Elessar smiled, "Not quite. Mostly she gives me her deepest thanks for everything – especially the clothes and my coat. As a matter of fast, she says that I will not be getting them back. She wishes to see us all in the future and hopes that even if she does not, we will all be very happy and safe in whatever path life takes on along."

As he unfolded the rest of the paper, something fell out. Elessar caught it, then read the small, attached note. "This is for Pippin because he loved to ask if her hair was really that color naturally."

"Well, I did not think it possible for a man to have hair that color of red," he defended himself as he accepted it over their chuckles. "You are just upset that you did not think to ask her the same thing."

Merry rolled his eyes as Frodo and Sam laughed harder. They parted ways then, finally ending their journeys as each went him.

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Wesley breathed a sigh of relief, "About time you woke up. We were beginning to worry about you."

Giles blinked and groaned, "What?"

"You've been dead dummies since you arrived three days ago," Cordelia informed them. "I've had the annoying task of making sure that you stay alive."

"Nice to know some things haven't changed," Buffy said, drinking the water Boromir handed her. "But couldn't you have put us in _rooms_?"

Cordelia scoffed as she moved to check on Dawn, "You're lucky we didn't just leave you in the way station that is Albion. I figured you would be safe there but I was voted down."

"There was no way of being absolutely sure that they would be, Cordelia. We couldn't take that chance," Wesley said. "After all, Glory managed to penetrate the magical shield protecting it from evil forces."

"Are we _all_ home?" Faith asked, unable to keep the bite out of her voice.

Oz counted heads, "Yes."

"I've dibs on the first shower," Faith got up and sprinted for the stairs, Buffy on her heels, arguing that it should be her right to go first.

Xander's eyes opened a hair and he grunted, rolling over and drifting back off.

"We must be home," Willow moaned. "I hurt all over again."

"You're not exactly home," Cordelia sharply corrected. "As this is Los Angeles and not Sunnydale, I can be fully safe in saying that this is any place _but_ your home."

"Cordelia," Boromir sternly warned.

"I'm only saying," she replied, not backing down.

"It's my home too, Cordelia," Fred's creaky voice spoke up after a time. Slowly, she pushed herself upright, accepting Oz's hand.

"And, since my dad lives in this town, is partially mine," Dawn added. "Is anyone else feeling hung over?"

"I'm trying not to think about it," Fred admitted, leaning forward and resting her head on her upraised knees. Taking a few deep breaths, she slowly felt the world coming back into focus around her and the dizziness fading away.

"You throw up on me, pet, and I'll see to it that something unpleasant happens to your bed. And why do you know what it's like to be hung over, lil' bit?" Spike asked, pushing himself upright. Smoothly rising to his feet, he stood over them all, a slightly smug look on his face as he looked down at them.

"Give me a hand, Spike," Dawn ordered, stretching up her hand to him. "I've been living with _dwarves_, Spike. And they love to drink – as do you, remember?"

"Don't use that tone of voice with me or I'll drop you."

Her tongue stuck out as they and Fred went up the stairs. In the background, they could hear Wesley telling him what they'd found out. It worried Giles to hear that the demons were quiet – and the Watcher's Council was acting suspiciously.

Willow opened an eyes, making a quick count. Cordelia and Wesley she could clearly see by the counter. Boromir was over by Connor, making sure he was still sleeping in his gently swaying swing. It took her a moment to realize that someone was missing and she was worried since he'd left Middle Earth, injured, "Where's Gunn?"

"Hospital, that wound of his got infected – by the black touch," Boromir said, scooping her up off the floor.

She yawned, feeling her jaw crack. "I'll see what I can do," she yawned again, sinking into the couch. "You going to put Xander over there?" she pointed to the other couch.

"We'll put him upstairs," Oz said. Between Oz and Boromir's combined efforts, they managed to get Xander off the floor and up the stairs.

Cordy sat down, staring at her. "You look the same and sound the same. You even act magically before thinking the same. So, I guess there was no reason to fear."

"What?" she asked.

"You heard me," she said. "Does this mean that the magic is still there?"

Her eyes popped fully open and she stared at Cordy, "I don't know."

"Then why did you say that you'd help Gunn?" she snapped.

"I'm just so used to it being there, I never thought about it," she took a deep breath, trying to remember her lessons. The bleak feeling of nothing that greeted her searching was not what she expected. Even warned that she might be burned out, she hadn't thought it would feel like this.

"Giles! I can't feel my magic anymore. Who's going to help Gunn? Medicine can't cure the black poison."

Though he had been expecting something like this, he had hoped that they would have time to orient themselves before it happened. He should have known better, nothing ever went easily for any of them.

"Calm down, Willow," Giles ordered, a sharpness in his voice that was fully planned. As expected, she subsided more from the tone than the words. He then softened his tone, "Gunn will be fine. Right now, there is no real danger to his health – we would have been told otherwise if he was truly in danger. We will wait until we see him – after we have had time to regroup and recharge."

"But, Giles," she began, only to be cut off by his look.

"No, Willow. You must rest and recharge before you can ascertain what you do and do not have I neglected my duty to you before. As a result, you were placed in mortal danger. I was firmly reminded of my duty to you before we left. I will not fail you again," Giles' voice brooked no argument.

Though she shot him a look of pure resentment, Willow settled down. Knowing he was right – and that there were ways around his edict – she was content. Until he said, in a tone of pure steel, "And Willow? I am going to be monitoring your magical actions closely, as will Oz. Don't try to deceive either of us."

She didn't try to refute his words. It would have been pointless. Giles knew her to well to be fooled. If given the opportunity, she would try to subvert his decision. In fact, that was what she'd been thinking about doing.

Now, though, he was laying down the law – and she resented it. Yes, it was for her own good. But after being free to pursue her own course of study and practice, this intrusion felt wrong. A part of her wondered if he no longer trusted her.

The truth was, he shouldn't trust her. She had to earn the trust after she'd been so unwise with her magic and her decisions. Though she felt anger, she swallowed it back with effort. Knowing that it was her own arrogance and folly that had brought this down upon her, she did not want to blame him.

"Yes, sir," she quietly said, a faint trace of bitterness in her voice.

"Willow, Giles said, coming around to kneel in front of her, "You know why it has to be this way. I have to learn to trust you – and you must learn to trust in me as you trusted in Saruman. Our world is far darker that their own and you've touched a infinite amount of darkness, it taints you. I'm sorry, but I can no longer allow you to run amok with your magic. It is no longer safe. Do you understand that?"

Slowly, she nodded, wishing she could deny his words. But she couldn't, to do so was dangerous. "Understand, yes – like it, no."

"You don't have to like it, just do it," Giles squeezed her hand before rising. "You need a shower and then rest. We need to get back home soon. Though the Council seems to be ignoring the lack of the Slayer – both of them – I doubt the demons are as generous. We will need to reclaim our hard won peace there."

"I'll tell Gunn you're all home," Wesley offered, pulling on his jacket, "And pick up some dinner. Keep an eye on Connor for me, okay?"

"Thank you," Giles helped Willow up, passing Boromir as they walked up the stairs.

He felt the tension and looked at Cordy who only shrugged. Kissing her cheek, he walked over to the cabinet. "I need to check out some active spots. They will probably be more active because the Slayers have returned."

"Be careful," she said, watching him disappear with Wesley. Exhaling, she shut the door. As the realization hit her that nothing was going to be the same for any of them ever again, she sank back against the wood. They were all finally home, together once again. And yet, it all felt wrong, like something had been broken and would never be repaired again.

There were people she'd never see again. The battlefield had irrevocably changed and they would need to change with it. She only hoped they were strong enough to face it.

Because she, like Giles, knew that Willow's power was far from gone. And the temptation to use it for a quick fix was already planted in her.

The End – really this time.


End file.
